AT  HOME  AND  ABROAD ; 


OK, 


THINGS    AND    THOUGHTS 


stifc 


BY 

MARGARET    FULLER    OSSOLI, 

AUTHOR  OF  "WOMAN  IN  THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY,"  "ART,  LITERATURE, 
AND  THE  DRAMA,"  "  LIFE  WITHOUT  AND  LIFE  WITHIN,"  ETC. 


EDITED   BY   HER   BROTHER, 

ARTHUR   B.   FULLER. 


BOSTON: 
BROWN,    TAGGARD    AND     CHASE. 

NEW  YORK:   SHELDON  &  CO.    PHILADELPHIA:    J.  B.  LIPPINCOTT  &  CO. 
LONDON  :    SAMPSON  LOW,  SON  &  CO. 


I860. 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1866,  by 

ARTHUR   B.   FULLER, 
in  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Court  of  the  District  of  Massachusetts. 


RIVERSIDE,   CAMBRIDGE: 

PRINTED   BT   H.    O.    HOUQHTON  AND   COMPANT. 


18-60 


PREFACE. 


THERE  are  at  least  three  classes  of  persons  who  travel 
in  our  own  land  and  abroad.  The  first  and  largest  in 
number  consists  of  those  who,  "  having  eyes,  see  not,  and 
ears,  hear  not,"  anything  which  is  profitable  to  be  remem 
bered.  Crossing  lake  and  ocean,  passing  over  the  broad 
prairies  of  the  New  World  or  the  classic  fields  of  the  Old, 
though  they  look  on  the  virgin  soil  sown  thickly  with  flow 
ers  by  the  hand  of  God,  or  on  scenes  memorable  in  man's 
history,  they  gaze  heedlessly,  and  when  they  return  home 
can  but  tell  us  what  they  ate  and  drank,  and  where  slept, 
—  no  more  ;  for  this  and  matters  of  like  import  are  all  for 
which  they  have  cared  in  their  wanderings. 

Those  composing  the  second  class  travel  more  intel 
ligently.  They  visit  scrupulously  all  places  which  are 
noted  either  as  the  homes  of  literature,  the  abodes  of  Art, 
or  made  classic  by  the  pens  of  ancient  genius.  Accurate 
ly  do  they  mark  the  distance  of  one  famed  city  from  an 
other,  the  size  and  general  appearance  of  each  ;  they  see 
as  many  as  possible  of  celebrated  pictures  and  works  of 
art,  and  mark  carefully  dimensions,  age,  and  all  details 
concerning  them.  Men,  too,  whom  the  world  regards  as 
great  men,  whether  because  of  wisdom,  poesy,  warlike 


IV  PREFACE. 

achievements,  or  of  wealth  and  station,  they  seek  to 
take  by  the  hand  and  in  some  degree  to  know  ;  at  least 
to  note  their  appearance,  demeanor,  and  mode  of  life. 
Writers  belonging  to  this  class  of  travellers  are  not  to  be 
undervalued;  returning  home,  they  can  give  much  useful 
information,  and  tell  much  which  all  wish  to  hear  and 
know,  though,  as  their  narratives  are  chiefly  circumstan 
tial,  and  every  year  circumstances  change,  such  recitals 
lessen  constantly  in  value. 

But  there  is  a  third  class  of  those  who  journey,  who  see 
indeed  the  outward,  and  observe  it  well.  They,  too,  seek 
localities  where  Art  and  Genius  dwell,  or  have  painted 
on  canvas  or  sculptured  in  marble  their  memorials ;  they 
become  acquainted  with  the  people,  both  famed  and  ob 
scure,  of  the  lands  which  they  visit  and  in  which  for  a 
time  they  abide  ;  their  hearts  throb  as  they  stand  on 
places  where  great  deeds  have  been  done,  with  whose 
dust  perhaps  is  mingled  the  sacred  ashes  of  men  who 
fell  in  the  warfare  for  truth  and  freedom,  —  a  warfare 
begun  early  in  the  world's  history,  and  not  yet  ended. 
But  they  do  much  more  than  this.  There  is,  though  in 
a  different  sense  from  what  ancient  Pagans  fancied,  a 
genius  or  guardian  spirit  of  each  scene,  each  stream  and 
lake  and  country,  and  this  spirit  is  ever  speaking,  but  in 
a  tone  which  only  the  attent  ear  of  the  noble  and  gifted 
can  hear,  and  in  a  language  which  such  minds  and  hearts 
only  can  understand.  With  vision  which  needs  no  mir 
acle  to  make  it  prophetic,  they  see  the  destinies  which 
nations  are  ail-unconsciously  shaping  for  themselves, 
and  note  the  deep  meaning  of  passing  events  which 
only  make  others  wonder.  Beneath  the  mask  of  mere 
externals,  their  eyes  discern  the  character  of  those  whom 
they  meet,  and,  refusing  to  accept  popular  judgment  in 


PREFACE. 


place  of  truth,  they  see  often  the  real  relation  which 
men  bear  to  their  race  and  age,  and  observe  the  facts  by 
which  to  determine  whether  such  men  are  great  only  be 
cause  of  circumstances,  or  by  the  irresistible  power  of 
their  own  minds.  When  such  narrate  their  journeyings, 
we  have  what  is  valuable  not  for  a  few  years  only,  but, 
because  of  its  philosophic  and  suggestive  spirit,  what 
must  always  be  useful. 

The  reader  of  the  following  pages,  it  is  believed,  will 
decide  that  Margaret  Fuller  deserves  to  rank  with  the 
latter  class  of  travellers,  while  not  neglectful  of  those  de 
tails  which  it  is  well  to  learn  and  remember. 

Twelve  years  ago  she  journeyed,  in  company  with 
several  friends,  on  the  Lakes,  and  through  some  of  the 
Western  States.  Returning,  she  published  a  volume 
describing  this  journey,  which  seems  worthy  of  repub- 
lication.  It  seems  so  because  it  rather  gives  an  idea  of 
Western  scenery  and  character,  than  enters  into  guide 
book  statements  which  would  be  all  erroneous  now. 

Beside  this,  it  is  much  a  record  of  thoughts  as  well  as 
things,  and  those  thoughts  have  lost  none  of  their  sig 
nificance  now.  It  gives  us  also  knowledge  of  Indian 
character,  and  impressions  respecting  that  much  injured 
and  fast  vanishing  race,  which  justice  to  them  makes  it 
desirable  should  be  remembered.  The  friends  of  Mad 
ame  Ossoli  will  be  glad  to  make  permanent  this  addi 
tional  proof  of  her  sympathy  with  all  the  oppressed,  no 
matter  whether  that  oppression  find  embodiment  in  the 
Indian  or  the  African,  the  American  or  the  European. 

The  second  part  of  the  present  volume  gives  my  sis 
ter's  impressions  and  observations  during  her  European 
journey  and  residence  in  Italy.  This  is  done  through  let 
ters,  which  originally  appeared  in  the  New  York  Tribune, 


VI  PREFACE. 

but  have  never  before  been  gathered  into  book  form. 
There  may  be  a  degree  of  incompleteness,  sometimes 
perhaps  inaccuracy,  in  these  letters,  which  are  inseparable 
attendants  upon  letter-writing  during  a  journey  or  amid 
exciting  and  warlike  scenes.  None  can  lament  more 

o 

than  I  that  their  writer  lives  not  to  revise  them.  Some 
errors,  too,  were  doubtless  made  in  the  original  printing 
of  these  letters,  owing  to  her  handwriting  not  being 
easily  read  by  those  who  were  not  familiar  with  it,  and 
very  probably  some  such  errors  may  have  escaped  my 
notice  in  the  revision,  especially  as  many  emendations 
must  be  conjectural,  the  original  manuscript  not  now 
existing. 

There  is  one  fact,  however,  which  gives  this  part  of  the 
volume  a  high  value.  Madame  Ossoli  was  in  Rome  dur 
ing  the  most  eventful  period  of  its  modern  history.  She 
was  almost  the  only  American  who  remained  there  dur 
ing  the  Italian  Revolution,  and  the  siege  of  the  city.  Her 
marriage  with  the  Marquis  Ossoli,  who  was  Captain  ot 
the  Civic  Guard  and  active  in  the  republican  councils 
and  army,  and  her  own  ardent  love  of  freedom,  and  sac 
rifices  for  it,  brought  her  into  immediate  acquaintance 
with  the  leaders  in  the  revolutionary  army,  and  made  her 
cognizant  of  their  plans,  their  motives,  and  their  charac 
ters.  Unsuccessful  for  a  time  as  has  been  that  struggle 
for  freedom,  it  was  yet  a  noble  one,  and  its  true  history 
should  be  known  in  this  country  and  in  all  lands,  that 
justice  may  be  done  to  those  who  sacrificed  much,  some 
even  life,  in  behalf  of  liberty.  Her  peculiar  fitness  to  write 
the  history  of  this  struggle  is  well  expressed  by  Mr.  Gree- 
ley,  in  his  Introduction  to  one  of  her  volumes  recently 
published.*  "  Of  Italy's  last  struggle  for  liberty  and  light," 

*  Introduction  to  Papers  on  Literature  and  Art,  p.  3. 


PREFACE.  Vll 

he  says,  "  she  might  not  merely  say,  with  the  Grattan  of 
Ireland's  kindred  effort,  half  a  century  earlier,  '  I  stood  by 
its  cradle  ;  I  followed  its  hearse.'  She  might  fairly  claim 
to  have  been  a  portion  of  its  incitement,  its  animation,  its 
informing  soul.  She  bore  more  than  a  woman's  part  in 
its  conflicts  and  its  perils  ;  and  the  bombs  of  that  ruthless 
army  which  a  false  and  traitorous  government  impelled 
against  the  ramparts  of  Republican  Rome,  could  have 
stilled  no  voice  more  eloquent  in  its  exposures,  no  heart 
more  lofty  in  its  defiance,  of  the  villany  which  so  wan 
tonly  drowned  in  blood  the  hopes,  while  crushing  the  dear 
est  rights,  of  a  people,  than  those  of  Margaret  Fuller." 

Inadequate,  indeed,  are  these  letters  as  a  memorial  and 
vindication  of  that  struggle,  in  comparison  with  the  his 
tory  which  Madame  Ossoli  had  written,  and  which  per 
ished  with  her ;  but  well  do  they  deserve  to  be  preserved, 
as  the  record  of  a  clear-minded  and  true-hearted  eyewit 
ness  of,  and  participator  in,  this  effort  to  establish  a  new 
and  better  Roman  Republic.  In  one  respect  they  have  an 
interest  higher  than  would  the  history.  They  were  writ 
ten  during  the  struggle,  and  show  the  fluctuations  of  hope 
and  despondency  which  animated  those  most  deeply  in 
terested.  I  have  thought  it  right  to  leave  unchanged  all 
expressions  of  her  opinion  and  feeling,  even  when  it  is 
evident  from  the  letters  themselves  that  these  were  grad 
ually  somewhat  modified  by  ensuing  events.  Especially 
did  this  change  occur  in  regard  to  the  Pope,  whom  she 
at  first  regarded,  in  common  with  all  lovers  of  freedom 
in  this  and  other  lands,  with  a  hopefulness  which  was 
doomed  to  a  cruel  disappointment.  She  was,  however, 
never  for  a  moment  deceived  as  to  his  character.  His 
heart  she  believed  kindly  and  good;  his  intellect,  of  a 
low  order ;  his  views  as  to  reform,  narrow,  intending 


Vlll  PREFACE. 

only  what  is  partial,  temporary,  and  alleviating,  never  a 
permanent,  vital  reform,  which  should  remove  the  cause 
of  the  ills  on  account  of  which  his  people  groaned. 
Really  to  elevate  and  free  Italy,  it  was  necessary  to  re 
move  the  yoke  of  ecclesiastical  and  political  thraldom ; 
to  do  this  formed  no  part  of  his  plans,  —  from  his  very 
nature  he  was  incapable  of  so  great  a  purpose.  The 
expression  in  her  letters  of  this  opinion,  when  most  peo 
ple  hoped  better  things,  was  at  first  censured,  as  doing 
injustice  to  Pius  IX.  ;  but  alas !  events  proved  the  im 
pulses  of  his  heart  to  be  in  subjection  to  the  prejudices 
of  his  mind,  and  that  mind  to  be  weaker  than  even  she 
had  deemed  it,  with  views  as  narrow  as  she  had  feared. 

The  third  part  of  this  volume  contains  some  letters  to 
friends,  which  were  never  written  for  the  public  eye,  but 
are  necessary  to  complete,  as  far  as  can  now  be  done,  the 
narrative  of  her  residence  abroad.  Some  few  of  these 
have  already  appeared  in  her  "  Memoirs,"  a  work  I  can 
not  too  warmly  recommend  to  those  who  would  know 
my  sister's  character.  Many  more  of  her  letters  may  be 
there  found,  equally  worthy  of  perusal,  but  not  so  neces 
sary  to  complete  the  history  of  events  in  Italy. 

The  fourth  part  contains  the  details  of  that  shipwreck 
which  caused  mourning  not  only  in  the  hearts  of  her  kin 
dred,  but  of  the  many  who  knew  and  loved  her.  These, 
with  some  poems  commemorative  of  her  character  and 
eventful  death,  form  a  sad  but  fitting  close  to  a  book 
which  records  her  European  journeyings,  and  her  voyage 
to  a  home  which  proved  to  be  not  in  this  land,  where 
were  waiting  warm  hearts  to  bid  her  welcome,  but  one 
in  a  land  yet  freer,  better  than  this,  where  she  can  be  no 
less  loved  by  the  angels,  by  our  Saviour,  and  the  Infinite 
Father. 


PREFACE.  IX 

After  the  copy  for  this  volume  had  been  sent  to  the 
press,  it  was  found  necessary  to  omit  some  portions  of 
the  work  in  the  republication,  as  too  much  matter  had 
been  furnished  for  a  volume  of  reasonable  size.  The 
Editor  made  these  omissions  with  much  reluctance,  but 
the  desire  to  bring  a  record  of  Madame  Ossoli's  journey- 
ings  within  the  compass  of  one  volume  outweighed  that 
reluctance.  He  believes  the  omissions  have  been  made 
in  such  a  way  as  not  materially  to  diminish  its  value, 
especially  as  most  which  has  been  omitted  will  find 
place  in  another  volume  he  hopes  soon  to  issue,  contain 
ing  a  portion  of  the  miscellaneous  writings  of  Madame 
Ossoli. 

All  of  these  omissions  that  are  important  occur  in  the 
Summer  on  the  Lakes,  it  being  thought  better  to  omit 
from  a  portion  of  the  work  which  had  previously  been 
before  the  public  in  book  form.  The  episodical  nature 
of  that  work,  too,  enabled  the  Editor  to  make  omissions 
without  in  any  way  marring  its  unity.  These  omissions, 
when  other  than  mere  verbal  ones,  consist  of  extracts 
from  books  which  she  read  in  relation  to  the  Indians;  an 
account  of  and  translation  from  the  Seeress  of  Prevorst, 
a  German  work  which  had  not  then,  but  has  since,  been 
translated  into  English,  and  republished  in  this  country ; 
a  few  extracts  from  letters  and  poems  sent  to  her  by  friends 
while  she  was  in  the  West,  one  of  which  poems  has  been 
since  published  elsewhere  by  its  author;  and  the  story 
of  Marianna,  (a  great  portion  of  which  may  be  found  in 
my  sister's  "  Memoirs,")  and  also  Lines  to  Edith,  a  short 
poem.  Marianna  and  Lines  to  Edith  will  probably  be  re- 
published  in  another  volume.  From  the  letters  of  Mad 
ame  Ossoli  in  Parts  II.  and  III.  no  omissions  have  been 
made  other  than  verbal,  or  when  pertaining  to  trifling  in- 


PREFACE. 


cidents,  having  only  a  temporary  interest.  Nothing  in 
any  portion  of  the  book  recording  my  sister's  own  obser 
vations  or  opinions  has  been  omitted  or  changed.  The 
reader,  too,  will  notice  that  nothing  affecting  the  unity 
of  the  narrative  is  here  wanting,  the  volume  even  gain 
ing  in  that  respect  by  the  omission  of  extracts  from  other 
writers,  and  of  a  story  and  short  poem  not  connected  in 
any  regard  with  Western  life. 

In  conclusion,  the  Editor  would  express  the  sincere 
hope  that  this  volume  may  not  only  be  of  general  inter 
est,  but  inspire  its  readers  with  an  increased  love  of  re 
publican  institutions,  and  an  earnest  purpose  to  seek  the 
removal  of  every  national  wrong  which  hinders  our  be 
loved  country  from  being  a  perfect  example  and  hearty 
helper  of  other  nations  in  their  struggles  for  liberty.  May 
it  do  something,  also,  to  remove  misapprehension  of  the 
motives,  character,  and  action  of  those  noble  patriots 
of  Italy,  who  strove,  though  for  a  time  vainly,  to  make 
their  country  free,  and  to  deepen  the  sympathy  which 
every  true  American  should  feel  with  faithful  men  every 
where,  who  by  art  are  seeking  to  refine,  by  philanthropic 
exertion  to  elevate,  by  the  diffusion  of  truth  to  enlighten, 
or  by  self-sacrifice  and  earnest  effort  to  free,  their  fellow- 
men. 

A.  B.  F. 
BOSTON,  March  1,  1856. 


CONTENTS. 


PART     I. 

PAG* 
BUMMER    ON    THE    LAKES     ....  1 


PART     II. 

THINGS   AND    THOUGHTS    IN    EUROPE  .  .  .  .  .117 

PART     III. 

LETTERS    FROM    ABROAD    TO    FRIENDS    AT    HOME        .  .  .      423 

PART     IV. 

HOMEWARD  VOYAGE,  AND  MEMORIALS  .  ,441 


PART   I. 

SUMMER   ON   THE   LAKES. 


SUMMER  days  of  busy  leisure, 

Long  summer  days  of  dear-bought  pleasure, 

You  have  done  your  teaching  well  ; 

Had  the  scholar  means  to  tell 

How  grew  the  vine  of  bitter-sweet, 

What  made  the  path  for  truant  feet, 

Winter  nights  would  quickly  pass, 

Gazing  on  the  magic  glass 

O'er  which  the  new-world  shadows  pass. 

But,  in  fault  of  wizard  spell, 

Moderns  their  tale  can  only  tell 

In  dull  words,  with  a  poor  reed 

Breaking  at  each  time  of  need. 

Yet  those  to  M  horn  a  hint  suffices 

Mottoes  find  for  all  devices, 

See  the  knights  behind  their  shields, 

Through  dried  grasses,  blooming  fields. 


SOME  dried  grass-tufts  from  the  wide  flowery  field, 

A  muscle-shell  from  the  lone  fairy  shore, 

Some  antlers  from  tall  woods  which  never  more 

To  the  wild  deer  a  safe  retreat  can  yield, 

An  eagle's  feather  which  adorned  a  Brave, 

Well-nigh  the  last  of  his  despairing  band,  — 

For  such  slight  gifts  wilt  thou  extend  thy  hand 

When  wear}'  hours  a  brief  refreshment  crave  ? 

I  give  you  what  I  can,  not  what  I  would 

If  my  small  drinking-cup  would  hold  a  flood, 

As  Scandinavia  sung  those  must  contain 

With  which  the  giants  gods  may  entertain ; 

In  our  dwarf  day  we  drain  few  drops,  and  soon  must  thirst  again. 


NIAGARA. 

Niagara,  June  10,  1843. 

SINCE  you  are  to  share  with  me  such  foot-notes  as  may  be 
made  on  the  pages  of  my  life  during  this  summer's  wanderings,  I 
should  not  be  quite  silent  as  to  this  magnificent  prologue  to  the, 
as  yet,  unknown  drama.  Yet  I,  like  others,  have  little  to  say, 
where  the  spectacle  is,  for  once,  great  enough  to  fill  the  whole 
life,  and  supersede  thought,  giving  us  only  its  own  presence.  "  It 
is  good  to  be  here,"  is  the  best,  as  the  simplest,  expression  that 
occurs  to  the  mind. 

We  have  been  here  eight  days,  and  I  am  quite  willing  to  go 
away.  So  great  a  sight  soon  satisfies,  making  us  content  with 
itself,  and  with  what  is  less  than  itself.  Our  desires,  once  realized, 
haunt  us  again  less  readily.  Having  "  lived  one  day,"  we  would 
depart,  and  become  worthy  to  live  another. 

We  have  not  been  fortunate  in  weather,  for  there  cannot  be  too 
much,  or  too  warm  sunlight  for  this  scene,  and  the  skies  have  been 
lowering,  with  cold,  unkind  winds.  My  nerves,  too  much  braced 
up  by  such  an  atmosphere,  do  not  well  bear  the  continual  stress 
of  sight  and  sound.  For  here  there  is  no  escape  from  the  weight 
of  a  perpetual  creation  ;  all  other  forms  and  motions  come  and 
go,  the  tide  rises  and  recedes,  the  wind,  at  its  mightiest,  moves  in 
gales  and  gusts,  but  here  is  really  an  incessant,  an  indefatigable 
motion.  Awake  or  asleep,  there  is  no  escape,  still  this  rushing 
round  you  and  through  you.  It  is  in  this  way  I  have  most  felt 
the  grandeur,  —  somewhat  eternal,  if  not  infinite. 

At  times  a  secondary  music  rises ;  the  cataract  seems  to  seize 


4  SUMMER    ON    THE    LAKES. 

its  own  rhythm  and  sing  it  over  again,  so  that  the  ear  and  soul 
are  roused  by  a  double  vibration.  This  is  some  effect  of  the  wind, 
causing  echoes  to  the  thundering  anthem.  It  is  very  sublime, 
giving  the  effect  of  a  spiritual  repetition  through  all  the  spheres. 

When  I  first  came,  I  felt  nothing  but  a  quiet  satisfaction.  I 
found  that  drawings,  the  panorama,  &c.  had  given  me  a  clear 
notion  of  the  position  and  proportions  of  all  objects  here  ;  I  knew 
where  to  look  for  everything,  and  everything  looked  as  I  thought 
it  would. 

Long  ago,  I  was  looking  from  a  hill-side  with  a  friend  at  one 
of  the  finest  sunsets  that  ever  enriched  this  world.  A  little  cow 
boy,  trudging  along,  wondered  what  we  could  be  gazing  at.  After 
spying  about  some  time,  he  found  it  could  only  be  the  sunset,  and 
looking,  too,  a  moment,  he  said  approvingly,  "  That  sun  looks  well 
enough  " ;  a  speech  worthy  of  Shakespeare's  Cloten,  or  the  infant 
Mercury,  up  to  everything  from  the  cradle,  as  you  please  to 
take  it. 

Even  such  a  familiarity,  worthy  of  Jonathan,  our  national  hero, 
in  a  prince's  palace,  or  "  stumping,"  as  he  boasts  to  have  done, 
"  up  the  Vatican  stairs,  into  the  Pope's  presence,  in  my  old  boots," 
I  felt  here ;  it  looks  really  well  enough,  I  felt,  and  was  inclined, 
as  you  suggested,  to  give  my  approbation  as  to  the  one  object  in 
the  world  that  would  not  disappoint. 

But  all  great  expression,  which,  on  a  superficial  survey,  seems 
so  easy  as  well  as  so  simple,  furnishes,  after  a  while,  to  the  faith 
ful  observer,  its  own  standard  by  which  to  appreciate  it.  Daily 
these  proportions  widened  and  towered  more  and  more  upon  my 
sight,  and  I  got,  at  last,  a  proper  foreground  for  these  sublime 
distances.  Before  coming  away,  I  think  I  really  saw  the  full 
wonder  of  the  scene.  After  a  while  it  so  drew  me  into  itself  as  to 
inspire  an  undefined  dread,  such  as  I  never  knew  before,  such  as 
may  be  felt  when  death  is  about  to  usher  us  into  a  new  existence. 
The  perpetual  trampling  of  the  waters  seized  my  senses.  I  felt 
that  no  other  sound,  however  near,  could  be  heard,  and  would 
start  and  look  behind  me  for  a  foe.  I  realized  the  identity  of  that 
mood  of  nature  in  which  these  waters  were  poured  down  with 


NIAGARA.  5 

such  absorbing  force,  with  that  in  which  the  Indian  was  shaped 
on  the  same  soil.  For  continually  upon  my  mind  came,  unsought 
and  unwelcome,  images,  such  as  never  haunted  it  before,  of  naked 
savages  stealing  behind  me  with  uplifted  tomahawks ;  again  and 
again  this  illusion  recurred,  and  even  after  I  had  thought  it  over, 
and  tried  to  shake  it  off,  I  could  not  help  starting  and  looking  be 
hind  me. 

As  picture,  the  falls  can  only  be  seen  from  the  British  side. 
There  they  are  seen  in  their  veils,  and  at  sufficient  distance  to 
appreciate  the  magical  effects  of  these,  and  the  light  and  shade. 
From  the  boat,  as  you  cross,  the  effects  and  contrasts  are  more 
melodramatic.  On  the  road  back  from  the  whirlpool,  we  saw 
them  as  a  reduced  picture  with  delight.  But  what  I  liked  best 
was  to  sit  on  Table  Rock,  close  to  the  great  fall.  There  all 
power  of  observing  details,  all  separate  consciousness,  was  quite 
lost. 

Once,  just  as  I  had  seated  myself  there,  a  man  came  to  take 
his  first  look.  He  walked  close  up  to  the  fall,  and,  after  looking 
at  it  a  moment,  with  an  air  as  if  thinking  how  he  could  best  ap 
propriate  it  to  his  own  use,  he  spat  into  it. 

This  trait  seemed  wholly  worthy  of  an  age  whose  love  of  utility 
is  such  that  the  Prince  Puckler  Muskau  suggests  the  probability 
of  men  coming  to  put  the  bodies  of  their  dead  parents  in  the  fields 
to  fertilize  them,  and  of  a  country  such  as  Dickens  has  described ; 
but  these  will  not,  I  hope,  be  seen  on  the  historic  page  to  be  truly 
the  age  or  truly  the  America.  A  little  leaven  is  leavening  the 
whole  mass  for  other  bread. 

The  whirlpool  I  like  very  much.  It  is  seen  to  advantage  after 
the  great  falls  ;  it  is  so  sternly  solemn.  The  river  cannot  look 
more  imperturbable,  almost  sullen  in  its  marble  green,  than  it 
does  just  below  the  great  fall ;  but  the  slight  circles  that  mark  the 
hidden  vortex  seem  to  whisper  mysteries  the  thundering  voice 
above  could  not  proclaim,  —  a  meaning  as  untold  as  ever. 

It  is  fearful,  too,  to  know,  as  you  look,  that  whatever  has  been 
swallowed  by  the  cataract  is  like  to  rise  suddenly  to  light  here, 
whether  uprooted  tree,  or  body  of  man  or  bird. 
1* 


6  SUMMER    ON    THE    LAKES. 

The  rapids  enchanted  me  far  beyond  what  I  expected;  they 
are  so  swift  that  they  cease  to  seem  so ;  you  can  think  only  of 
their  beauty.  The  fountain  beyond  the  Moss  Islands  I  discov 
ered  for  myself,  and  thought  it  for  some  time  an  accidental  beauty 
which  it  would  not  do  to  leave,  lest  I  might  never  see  it  again. 
After  I  found  it  permanent,  I  returned  many  times  to  watch  the 
play  of  its  crest.  In  the  little  waterfall  beyond,  Nature  seems,  as 
she  often  does,  to  have  made  a  study  for  some  larger  design. 
She  delights  in  this,  —  a  sketch  within  a  sketch,  a  dream  within 
a  dream.  Wherever  we  see  it,  the  lines  of  the  great  buttress  in 
the  fragment  of  stone,  the  hues  of  the  waterfall  copied  in  the 
flowers  that  star  its  bordering  mosses,  we  are  delighted ;  for  all 
the  lineaments  become  fluent,  and  we  mould  the  scene  in  conge 
nial  thought  with  its  genius. 

People  complain  of  the  buildings  at  Niagara,  and  fear  to  see  it 
further  deformed.  I  cannot  sympathize  with  such  an  apprehen 
sion  :  the  spectacle  is  capable  of  swallowing  up  all  such  objects ; 
they  are  not  seen  in  the  great  whole,  more  than  an  earthworm  in 
a  wide  field. 

The  beautiful  wood  on  Goat  Island  is  full  of  flowers  ;  many  of 
the  fairest  love  to  do  homage  here.  The  Wake-robin  and  May- 
apple  are  in  bloom  now ;  the  former,  white,  pink,  green,  purple, 
copying  the  rainbow  of  the  fall,  and  fit  to  make  a  garland  for  its 
presiding  deity  when  he  walks  the  land,  for  they  are  of  imperial 
size,  and  shaped  like  stones  for  a  diadem.  Of  the  May-apple,  I 
did  not  raise  one  green  tent  without  finding  a  flower  beneath. 

And  now  farewell.  Niagara.  I  have  seen  thee,  and  I  think  all 
who  come  here  must  in  some  sort  see  thee  ;  thou  art  not  to  be  got 
rid  of  as  easily  as  the  stars.  I  will  be  here  again  beneath  some 
flooding  July  moon  and  sun.  Owing  to  the  absence  of  light,  I 
have  seen  the  rainbow  only  two  or  three  times  by  day ;  the  lunar 
bow  not  at  all.  However,  the  imperial  presence  needs  not  its 
crown,  though  illustrated  by  it. 

General  Porter  and  Jack  Downing  were  not  unsuitable  figures 
here.  The  former  heroically  planted  the  bridges  by  which  we 
cross  to  Goat  Island  and  the  Wake-robin-crowned  genius  has 


NIAGARA.  / 

punished  his  temerity  with  deafness,  which  must,  I  think,  have 
come  upon  him  when  he  sunk  the  first  stone  in  the  rapids.  Jack 
seemed  an  acute  and  entertaining  representative  of  Jonathan,  come 
to  look  at  his  great  water-privilege.  He  told  us  all  about  the 
Americanisms  of  the  spectacle ;  that  is  to  say,  the  battles  that 
have  been  fought  here.  It  seems  strange  that  men  could  fight  in 
such  a  place  ;  but  no  temple  can  still  the  personal  griefs  and 
strifes  in  the  breasts  of  its  visitors. 

No  less  strange  is  the  fact  that,  in  this  neighborhood,  an  eagle 
should  be  chained  for  a  plaything.  When  a  child,  I  used  often 
to  stand  at  a  window  from  which  I  could  see  an  eagle  chained  in 
the  balcony  of  a  museum.  The  people  used  to  poke  at  it  with 
sticks,  and  my  childish  heart  would  swell  with  indignation  as  I 
saw  their  insults,  and  the  mien  with  which  they  were  borne  by 
the  monarch-bird.  Its  eye  was  dull,  and  its  plumage  soiled  and 
shabby,  yet,  in  its  form  and  attitude,  all  the  king  was  visible, 
though  sorrowful  and  dethroned.  I  never  saw  another  of  the 
family  till,  when  passing  through  the  Notch  of  the  White  Moun 
tains,  at  that  moment  glowing  before  us  in  all  the  panoply  of  sun 
set,  the  driver  shouted,  "  Look  there  !  "  and  following  with  our  eyes 
his  upward-pointing  finger,  we  saw,  soaring  slow  in  majestic  poise 
above  the  highest  summit,  the  bird  of  Jove.  It  was  a  glorious 
sight,  yet  I  know  not  that  I  felt  more  on  seeing  the  bird  in  all  its 
natural  freedom  and  royalty,  than  when,  imprisoned  and  insulted, 
he  had  filled  my  early  thoughts  with  the  Byronic  "  silent  rages  " 
of  misanthropy. 

Now,  again,  I  saw  him  a  captive,  and  addressed  by  the  vulgar 
with  the  language  they  seem  to  find  most  appropriate  to  such  oc 
casions,  —  that  of  thrusts  and  blows.  Silently,  his  head  averted, 
he  ignored  their  existence,  as  Plotinus  or  Sophocles  might  that  of 
a  modern  reviewer.  Probably  he  listened  to  the  voice  of  the 
cataract,  and  felt  that  congenial  powers  flowed  free,  and  was  con 
soled,  though  his  own  wing  was  broken. 

The  story  of  the  Recluse  of  Niagara  interested  me  a  little. 
It  is  wonderful  that  men  do  not  oftener  attach  their  lives  to 
localities  of  great  beauty,  —  that,  when  once  deeply  penetrated, 


SUMMER    ON    THE    LAKES. 

they  will  let  themselves  so  easily  be  borne  away  by  the  general 
stream  of  things,  to  live  anywhere  and  anyhow.  But  there  is 
something  ludicrous  in  being  the  hermit  of  a  show-place,  unlike 
St.  Francis  in  his  mountain-bed,  where  none  but  the  stars  and 
rising  sun  ever  saw  him. 

There  is  also  a  "  guide  to  the  falls,"  who  wears  his  title  labelled 
on  his  hat ;  otherwise,  indeed,  one  might  as  soon  think  of  asking 
for  a  gentleman  usher  to  point  out  the  moon.  Yet  why  should 
we  wonder  at  such,  when  we  have  Commentaries  on  Shake 
speare,  and  Harmonies  of  the  Gospels  ? 

And  now  you  have  the  little  all  I  have  to  write.  Can  it  in 
terest  you  ?  To  one  who  has  enjoyed  the  full  life  of  any  scene,  of 
any  hour,  what  thoughts  can  be  recorded  about  it  seem  like  the 
commas  and  semicolons  in  the  paragraph,  —  mere  stops.  Yet  I 
suppose  it  is  not  so  to  the  absent.  At  least,  I  have  read  things 
written  about  Niagara,  music,  and  the  like,  that  interested  me. 
Once  I  was  moved  by  Mr.  Greenwood's  remark,  that  he  could 
not  realize  this  marvel  till,  opening  his  eyes  the  next  morning 
after  he  had  seen  it,  his  doubt  as  to  the  possibility  of  its  being 
still  there  taught  him  what  he  had  experienced.  I  remember 
this  now  with  pleasure,  though,  or  because,  it  is  exactly  the  oppo 
site  to  what  I  myself  felt.  For  all  greatness  affects  different 
minds,  each  in  "  its  own  particular  kind,"  and  the  variations  of 
testimony  mark  the  truth  of  feeling.* 

I  will  here  add  a  brief  narrative  of  the  experience  of  another, 
as  being  much  better  than  anything  I  could  write,  because  more 
simple  and  individual. 

"  Now  that  I  have  left  this  '  Earth-wonder,'  and  the  emotions  it 
excited  are  past,  it  seems  riot  so  much  like  profanation  to  analyze 
my  feelings,  to  recall  minutely  and  accurately  the  effect  of  this 
manifestation  of  the  Eternal.  But  one  should  go  to  such  a  scene 

*  "  Somewhat  avails,  in  one  regard,  the  mere  sight  of  beauty  without  the  union 
of  feeling  therewith.  Carried  away  in  memory,  it  hangs  there  in  the  lonely  hall 
as  a  picture,  and  may  some  time  do  its  message.  I  trust  it  may  be  so  in  my  case, 
for  I  saw  every  object  far  more  clearly  than  if  I  had  been  moved  and  filled  with 
the  presence,  and  my  recollections  are  equally  distinct  and  vivid."  Extracted  from 
Manuscript  Notes  of  this  Journey  left  by  Margaret  Fuller.  —  ED. 


NIAGARA. 

prepared  to  yield  entirely  to  its  influences,  to  forget  one's  little 
self  and  one's  little  mind.  To  see  a  miserable  worm  creep  to  the 
brink  of  this  falling  world  of  waters,  and  watch  the  trembling  of 
its  own  petty  bosom,  and  fancy  that  this  is  made  alone  to  act 
upon  him  excites  —  derision  ?  No,  — pity." 

As  I  rode  up  to  the  neighborhood  of  the  falls,  a  solemn  awe 
imperceptibly  stole  over  me,  and  the  deep  sound  of  the  ever- 
hurrying  rapids  prepared  my  mind  for  the  lofty  emotions  to  be 
experienced.  When  I  reached  the  hotel,  I  felt  a  strange  indiffer 
ence  about  seeing  the  aspiration  of  my  life's  hopes.  I  lounged 
about  the  rooms,  read  the  stage-bills  upon  the  walls,  looked  over 
the  register,  and,  finding  the  name  of  an  acquaintance,  sent  to  see 
if  he  was  still  there.  What  this  hesitation  arose  from,  I  know 
not ;  perhaps  it  was  a  feeling  of  my  unworthiness  to  enter  this 
temple  which  nature  has  erected  to  its  God. 

At  last,  slowly  and  thoughtfully  I  walked  down  to  the  bridge 
leading  to  Goat  Island,  and  when  I  stood  upon  this  frail  support, 
and  saw  a  quarter  of  a  mile  of  tumbling,  rushing  rapids,  and  heard 
their  everlasting  roar,  my  emotions  overpowered  me,  a  choking 
sensation  rose  to  my  throat,  a  thrill  rushed  through  my  veins, 
"my  blood  ran  rippling  to  my  fingers'  ends."  This  was  the 
climax  of  the  effect  which  the  falls  produced  upon  me, — neither 
the  American  nor  the  British  fall  moved  me  as  did  these  rapids. 
For  the  magnificence,  the  sublimity  of  the  latter,  I  was  prepared 
by  descriptions  and  by  paintings.  When  I  arrived  in  sight  of 
them  I  merely  felt, "  Ah,  yes  !  here  is  the  fall,  just  as  I  have  seen  it 
in  a  picture."  When  I  arrived  at  the  Terrapin  Bridge,  I  expected 
to  be  overwhelmed,  to  retire  trembling  from  this  giddy  eminence, 
and  gaze  with  unlimited  wonder  and  awe  upon  the  immense  mass 
rolling  on  and  on  ;  but,  somehow  or  other,  I  thought  only  of  com 
paring  the  effect  on  my  mind  with  what  I  had  read  and  heard. 
I  looked  for  a  short  time,  and  then,  with  almost  a  feeling  of  disap 
pointment,  turned  to  go  to  the  other  points  of  view,  to  see  if  I  was 
not  mistaken  in  not  feeling  any  surpassing  emotion  at  this  sight. 
But  from  the  foot  of  Biddle's  Stairs,  and  the  middle  of  the  river, 
and  from  below  the  Table  Rock,  it  was  still  "  barren,  barren  all." 


10  SUMMER    ON    THE    LAKES. 

Provoked  with  my  stupidity  in  feeling  most  moved  in  tlie 
wrong  place,  I  turned  away  to  the  hotel,  determined  to  set  off 
for  Buffalo  that  afternoon.  But  the  stage  did  not  go,  and,  after 
nightfall,  as  there  was  a  splendid  moon,  I  went  down  to  the 
bridge,  and  leaned  over  the  parapet,  where  the  boiling  rapids  came 
down  in  their  might.  It  was  grand,  and  it  was  also  gorgeous ; 
the  yellow  rays  of  the  moon  made  the  broken  waves  appear  like 
auburn  tresses  twining  around  the  black  rocks.  But  they  did  not 
inspire  me  as  before.  I  felt  a  foreboding  of  a  mightier  emotion 
to  rise  up  and  swallow  all  others,  and  I  passed  on  to  the  Terrapin 
Bridge.  Everything  was  changed,  the  misty  apparition  had 
taken  off  its  many-colored  crown  which  it  had  worn  by  day, 
and  a  bow  of  silvery  white  spanned  its  summit.  The  moonlight 
gave  a  poetical  indefiniteness  to  the  distant  parts  of  the  waters, 
and  while  the  rapids  were  glancing  in  her  beams,  the  river  be 
low  the  falls  was  black  as  night,  save  where  the  reflection  of  the 
sky  gave  it  the  appearance  of  a  shield  of  blued  steel.  No  gaping 
tourists  loitered,  eyeing  with  their  glasses,  or  sketching  on  cards 
the  hoary  locks  of  the  ancient  river-god.  All  tended  to  harmo 
nize  with  the  natural  grandeur  of  the  scene.  I  gazed  long.  I 
saw  how  here  mutability  and  unchangeableness  were  united.  I 
surveyed  the  conspiring  waters  rushing  against  the  rocky  ledge  to 
overthrow  it  at  one  mad  plunge,  till,  like  toppling  ambition,  o'er- 
leaping  themselves,  they  fall  on  t'  other  side,  expanding  into  foam 
ere  they  reach  the  deep  channel  where  they  creep  submissively 
away. 

Then  arose  in  my  breast  a  genuine  admiration,  and  a  humble 
adoration  of  the  Being  who  was  the  architect  of  this  and  of  all. 
Happy  were  the  first  discoverers  of  Niagara,  those  who  could 
come  unawares  upon  this  view  and  upon  that,  whose  feelings 
were  entirely  their  own.  With  what  gusto  does  Father  Hen- 
nepin  describe  "  this  great  downfall  of  water,"  "  this  vast  and 
prodigious  cadence  of  water,  which  falls  down  after  a  surprising 
and  astonishing  manner,  insomuch  that  the  universe  does  not 
afford  its  parallel.  'T  is  true  Italy  and  Swedeland  boast  of  some 
such  things,  but  we  may  well  say  that  they  be  sorry  patterns 
when  compared  with  this  of  which  we  do  now  speak." 


CHAPTER    II. 

THE    LAKES. CHICAGO.  GENEVA. A    THUNDER-STORM. 

PAP  AW    GROVE. 

SCENE,  STEAMBOAT.  —  About  to  leave  Buffalo.  — Baggage  coming  on 
board.  — Passengers  bustling  for  their  berths.  — Little  boys  persecuting 
everybody  with  their  newspapers  and  pamphlets.  —  /.,  S.,  and  M. 
huddled  up  in  a  forlorn  corner,  behind  a  large  trunk.  —  A  heavy  rain 
falling. 

M.  Water,  water  everywhere.  After  Niagara  one  would  like 
a  dry  strip  of  existence.  And  at  any  rate  it  is  quite  enough  for 
me  to  have  it  under  foot  without  having  it  overhead  in  this  way. 

J.  Ah,  do  not  abuse  the  gentle  element.  It  is  hardly  possible 
to  have  too  much  of  it,  and  indeed,  if  I  were  obliged  to  choose 
amid  the  four,  it  would  be  the  one  in  which  I  could  bear  confine 
ment  best. 

S.    You  would  make  a  pretty  Undine,  to  be  sure ! 

J.  Nay.  I  only  offered  myself  as  a  Triton,  a  boisterous  Triton 
of  the  sounding  shell.  You,  M.,  I  suppose,  would  be  a  salaman 
der,  rather. 

M.  No !  that  is  too  equivocal  a  position,  whether  in  modern 
mythology,  or  Hoffman's  tales.  I  should  choose  to  be  a  gnome. 

/.    That  choice  savors  of  the  pride  that  apes  humility. 

M.  By  no  means ;  the  gnomes  are  the  most  important  of  all 
the  elemental  tribes.  Is  it  not  they  who  make  the  money  ? 

J.    And  are  accordingly  a  dark,  mean,  scoffing 

M.  You  talk  as  if  you  had  always  lived  in  that  wild,  unprofit 
able  element  you  are  so  fond  of,  where  all  things  glitter,  and  noth 
ing  is  gold ;  all  show  and  no  substance.  My  people  work  in  the 


12  SUMMER    ON    THE    LAKES. 

secret,  and  their  works  praise  them  in  the  open  light ;  they  re 
main  in  the  dark  because  only  there  such  marvels  could  be  bred. 
You  call  them  mean.  They  do  not  spend  their  energies  on  their 
own  growth,  or  their  own  play,  but  to  feed  the  veins  of  Mother 
Earth  with  permanent  splendors,  very  different  from  what  she 
shows  on  the  surface. 

Think  of  passing  a  life,  not  merely  in  heaping  together,  but 
making  gold.  Of  all  dreams,  that  of  the  alchemist  is  the  most 
poetical,  for  he  looked  at  the  finest  symbol.  "  Gold,"  says  one  of 
our  friends,  "  is  the  hidden  light  of  the  earth,  it  crowns  the  min 
eral,  as  wine  the  vegetable  order,  being  the  last  expression  of  vital 
energy." 

J.    Have  you  paid  for  your  passage  ? 
M.    Yes  !  and  in  gold,  not  in  shells  or  pebbles. 
J.    No  really  wise  gnome  would  scoff  at  the  water,  the  beauti 
ful  water.     "  The  spirit  of  man  is  like  the  water." 
S.    And  like  the  air  and  fire,  no  less. 

J.  Yes,  but  not  like  the  earth,  this  low-minded  creature's 
chosen  dwelling. 

M.  The  earth  is  spirit  made  fruitful,  —  life.  And  its  heart 
beats  are  told  in  gold  and  wine. 

J.  Oh !  it  is  shocking  to  hear  such  sentiments  in  these  times. 
I  thought  that  Bacchic  energy  of  yours  was  long  since  repressed. 
M.  No !  I  have  only  learned  to  mix  water  with  my  wine,  and 
stamp  upon  my  gold  the  heads  of  kings,  or  the  hieroglyphics  of 
worship.  But  since  I  have  learnt  to  mix  with  water,  let 's  hear 
what  you  have  to  say  in  praise  of  your  favorite. 

«/.  From  water  Venus  was  born,  what  more  would  you  have  ? 
It  is  the  mother  of  Beauty,  the  girdle  of  earth,  and  the  marriage 
of  nations. 

S.  Without  any  of  that  high-flown  poetry,  it  is  enough,  I  think, 
that  it  is  the  great  artist,  turning  all  objects  that  approach  it  to 
picture. 

/.  True,  no  object  that  touches  it,  whether  it  be  the  cart  that 
ploughs  the  wave  for  sea-weed,  or  the  boat  or  plank  that  rides 
upon  it,  but  is  brought  at  once  from  the  demesne  of  coarse  utili- 


THE    LAKES.  13 

ties  into  that  of  picture.  All  trades,  all  callings,  become  pictu 
resque  by  the  water's  side,  or  on  the  water.  The  soil,  the  sloven 
liness,  is  washed  out  of  every  calling  by  its  touch.  All  river-crafts, 
sea-crafts,  are  picturesque,  are  poetical.  Their  very  slang  is  poetry. 

M.    The  reasons  for  that  are  complex. 

J.  The  reason  is,  that  there  can  be  no  plodding,  groping  words 
and  motions  on  my  water  as  there  are  on  your  earth.  There  is 
no  time,  no  chance  for  them  where  all  moves  so  rapidly,  though 
so  smoothly ;  everything  connected  with  water  must  be  like  itself, 
forcible,  but  clear.  That  is  why  sea-slang  is  so  poetical ;  there  is 
a  word  for  everything  and  every  act,  and  a  thing  and  an  act  for 
every  word.  Seamen  must  speak  quick  and  bold,  but  also  with 
utmost  precision.  They  cannot  reef  and  brace  other  than  in  a 
Homeric  dialect,  —  therefore  —  (Steamboat  bell  rings.)  But  I 
must  say  a  quick  good-by. 

M.  What,  going,  going  back  to  earth  after  all  this  talk  upon 
the  other  side.  Well,  that  is  nowise  Homeric,  but  truly  modern. 

J.  is  borne  off  without  time  for  any  reply,  but  a  laugh  —  at 
himself,  of  course. 

S.  and  M.  retire  to  their  state-rooms  to  forget  the  wet,  the  chill, 
and  steamboat  smell,  in  their  just-bought  new  world  of  novels. 

Next  day,  when  we  stopped  at  Cleveland,  the  storm  was  just 
clearing  up  ;  ascending  the  bluff,  we  had  one  of  the  finest  views 
of  the  lake  that  could  have  been  wished.  The  varying  depths  of 
these  lakes  give  to  their  surface  a  great  variety  of  coloring,  and 
beneath  this  wild  sky  and  changeful  light,  the  waters  presented 
a  kaleidoscopic  variety  of  hues,  rich,  but  mournful.  I  admire 
these  bluffs  of  red,  crumbling  earth.  Here  land  and  water  meet 
under  very  different  auspices  from  those  of  the  rock-bound  coast 
to  which  I  have  been  accustomed.  There  they  meet  tenderly  to 
challenge,  and  proudly  to  refuse,  though  not  in  fact  repel.  But 
here  they  meet  to  mingle,  are  always  rushing  together,  and 
changing  places  ;  a  new  creation  takes  place  beneath  the  eye. 

The  weather  grew  gradually  clearer,  but  not  bright ;  yet  we 
could  see  the  shore  and  appreciate  the  extent  of  these  noble 
waters. 

2 


14  SUMMER    ON    THE    LAKES. 

Coming  up  the  river  St.  Clair,  we  saw  Indians  for  the  first 
time.  They  were  camped  out  on  the  bank.  It  was  twilight, 
and  their  blanketed  forms,  in  listless  groups  or  stealing  along  the 
bank,  with  a  lounge  and  a  stride  so  different  in  its  wiklness  from 
the  rudeness  of  the  white  settler,  gave  me  the  first  feeling  that  I 
really  approached  the  West. 

The  people  on  the  boat  were  almost  all  New-Englanders,  seek 
ing  their  fortunes.  They  had  brought  with  them  their  habits  of 
calculation,  their  cautious  manners,  their  love  of  polemics.  It 
grieved  me  to  hear  these  immigrants,  who  were  to  be  the  fathers 
of  a  new  race,  all,  from  the  old  man  down  to  the  little  girl,  talk 
ing,  not  of  what  they  should  do,  but  of  what  they  should  get  in 
the  new  scene.  It  was  to  them  a  prospect,  not  of  the  unfolding 
nobler  energies,  but  of  more  ease  and  larger  accumulation.  It 
wearied  me,  too,  to  hear  Trinity  and  Unity  discussed  in  the  poor, 
narrow,  doctrinal  way  on  these  free  waters ;  but  that  will  soon 
cease ;  there  is  not  time  for  this  clash  of  opinions  in  the  West, 
where  the  clash  of  material  interests  is  so  noisy.  They  will  need 
the  spirit  of  religion  more  than  ever  to  guide  them,  but  will  find 
less  tune  than  before  for  its  doctrine.  This  change  was  to  me, 
who  am  tired  of  the  war  of  words  on  these  subjects,  and  believe 
it  only  sows  the  wind  to  reap  the  whirlwind,  refreshing,  but  I 
argue  nothing  from  it ;  there  is  nothing  real  in  the  freedom  oi 
thought  at  the  West,  —  it  is  from  the  position  of  men's  lives,  not 
the  state  of  their  minds.  So  soon  as  they  have  time,  unless  they 
grow  better  meanwhile,  they  will  cavil  and  criticise,  and  judge 
other  men  by  their  own  standard,  and  outrage  the  law  of  love 
every  way,  just  as  they  do  with  us. 

We  reached  Mackinaw  the  evening  of  the  third  day,  but,  to 
my  great  disappointment,  it  was  too  late  and  too  rainy  to  go 
ashore.  The  beauty  of  the  island,  though  seen  under  the  most 
unfavorable  circumstances,  did  not  disappoint  my  expectations.* 
But  I  shall  see  it  to  more  purpose  on  my  return. 

*  "  Mackinaw,  that  long  desired  sight,  was  dimly  discerned  under  a  thick  fog, 
yet  it  soothed  and  cheered  me.  All  looked  mellow  there;  man  seemed  to  have 
worked  in  harmony  with  Nature  instead  of  rudely  invading  her,  as  in  most  West- 


THE    LAKES.  15 

As  the  day  has  passed  dully,  a  cold  rain  preventing  us  from 
keeping  out  in  the  air,  my  thoughts  have  been  dwelling  on  a 
story  told  when  we  were  off  Detroit,  this  morning,  by  a  fellow- 
passenger,  and  whose  moral  beauty  touched  me  profoundly. 

"  Some  years  ago,"  said  Mrs.  L., "  my  father  and  mother  stopped 
to  dine  at  Detroit.  A  short  time  before  dinner  my  father  met  in 
the  hall  Captain  P.,  a  friend  of  his  youthful  days.  He  had  loved 
P.  extremely,  as  did  many  who  knew  him,  and  had  not  been  sur 
prised  to  hear  of  the  distinction  and  popular  esteem  which  his 
wide  knowledge,  talents,  and  noble  temper  commanded,  as  he 
went  onward  in  the  world.  P.  was  every  way  fitted  to  succeed ; 
his  aims  were  high,  but  not  too  high  for  his  powers,  suggested  by 
an  instinct  of  his  own  capacities,  not  by  an  ideal  standard  drawn 
from  culture.  Though  steadfast  in  his  course,  it  was  not  to  over 
run  others ;  his  wise  self-possession  was  no  less  for  them  than 
himself.  He  was  thoroughly  the  gentleman,  gentle  because  man 
ly,  and  was  a  striking  instance  that,  where  there  is  strength  for 
sincere  courtesy,  there  is  no  need  of  other  adaptation  to  the  char 
acter  of  others,  to  make  one's  way  freely  and  gracefully  through 
the  crowd. 

"  My  father  was  delighted  to  see  him,  and  after  a  short  parley 
in  the  hall,  *  We  will  dine  together,'  he  cried,  '  then  we  shall 
have  time  to  tell  all  our  stories.' 

"  P.  hesitated  a  moment,  then  said,  '  My  wife  is  with  me.' 

"  l  And  mine  with  me,'  said  my  father ;  *  that 's  well ;  they,  too, 
will  have  an  opportunity  of  getting  acquainted,  and  can  entertain 
one  another,  if  they  get  tired  of  our  college  stories.' 

"  P.  acquiesced,  with  a  grave  bow,  and  shortly  after  they  all 
met  in  the  dining-room.  My  father  was  much  surprised  at  the 
appearance  of  Mrs.  P.  He  had  heard  that  his  friend  married 


ern  towns.  It  seemed  possible,  on  that  spot,  to  lead  a  life  of  serenity  and  cheer 
fulness.  Some  richly  dressed  Indians  came  down  to  show  themselves.  Their 
dresses  were  of  blue  broadcloth,  with  splendid  leggings  and  knee-ties.  On  their 
heads  were  crimson  scarfs  adorned  with  beads  and  falling  on  one  shoulder,  their 
hair  long  and  looking  cleanly.  Near  were  one  or  two  wild  figures  clad  in  the 
common  white  blankets/'  Manuscript  Notes.  —  ED. 


16  SUMMER    ON    THE    LAKES. 

abroad,  but  nothing  further,  and  he  was  not  prepared  to  see  the 
calm,  dignified  P.  with  a  woman  on  his  arm,  still  handsome, 
indeed,  but  whose  coarse  and  imperious  expression  showed  as 
low  habits  of  mind  as  her  exaggerated  dress  and  gesture  did  of 
education.  Nor  could  there  be  a  greater  contrast  to  my  mother, 
who,  though  understanding  her  claims  and  place  with  the  cer 
tainty  of  a  lady,  was  soft  and  retiring  in  an  uncommon  degree. 

"  However,  there  was  no  time  to  wonder  or  fancy ;  they  sat 
down,  and  P.  engaged  in  conversation,  without  much  vivacity, 
but  with  his  usual  ease.  The  first  quarter  of  an  hour  passed 
well  enough.  But  soon  it  was  observable  that  Mrs.  P.  was 
drinking  glass  after  glass  of  wine,  to  an  extent  few  gentlemen 
did,  even  then,  and  soon  that  she  was  actually  excited  by  it. 
Before  this,  her  manner  had  been  brusque,  if  not  contemptuous, 
towards  her  new  acquaintance;  now  it  became,  towards  my 
mother  especially,  quite  rude.  Presently  she  took  up  some 
slight  remark  made  by  my  mother,  which,  though  it  did  not 
naturally  mean  anything  of  the  sort,  could  be  twisted  into 
some  reflection  upon  England,  and  made  it  a  handle,  first  of 
vulgar  sarcasm,  and  then,  upon  my  mother's  defending  herself 
with  some  surprise  and  gentle  dignity,  hurled  upon  her  a  volley 
of  abuse,  beyond  Billingsgate. 

"  My  mother,  confounded  by  scenes  and  ideas  presented  to  her 
mind  equally  new  and  painful,  sat  trembling ;  she  knew  not  what 
to  do ;  tears  rushed  into  her  eyes.  My  father,  no  less  distressed, 
yet  unwilling  to  outrage  the  feelings  of  his  friend  by  doing  or  say 
ing  what  his  indignation  prompted,  turned  an  appealing  look  on  P. 

"  Never,  as  he  often  said,  was  the  painful  expression  of  that 
sight  effaced  from  his  mind.  It  haunted  his  dreams  and  dis 
turbed  his  waking  thoughts.  P.  sat  with  his  head  bent  forward, 
and  his  eyes  cast  down,  pale,  but  calm,  with  a  fixed  expression, 
not  merely  of  patient  woe,  but  of  patient  shame,  which  it  would 
not  have  been  thought  possible  for  that  noble  countenance  to 
wear.  '  Yet,'  said  my  father, '  it  became  him.  At  other  times  he 
was  handsome,  but  then  beautiful,  though  of  a  beauty  saddened 
and  abashed.  For  a  spiritual  light  borrowed  from  the  worldly 


THE    LAKES.  17 

perfection  of  his  mien  that  illustration  by  contrast,  which  the 
penitence  of  the  Magdalen  does  from  the  glowing  earthliness  of 
her  charms.' 

"  Seeing  that  he  preserved  silence,  while  Mrs.  P.  grew  still 
more  exasperated,  my  father  rose  and  led  his  wife  to  her  own 
room.  Half  an  hour  had  passed,  in  painful  and  wondering  sur 
mises,  when  a  gentle  knock  was  heard  at  the  door,  and  P. 
entered  equipped  for  a  journey.  i  We  are  just  going,'  he  said, 
and  holding  out  his  hand,  but  without  looking  at  them,  '  Forgive.' 

"  They  each  took  his  hand,  and  silently  pressed  it ;  then  he  went 
without  a  word  more. 

"  Some  time  passed,  and  they  heard  now  and  then  of  P.,  as  he 
passed  from  one  army  station  to  another,  with  his  uncongenial 
companion,  who  became,  it  was  said,  constantly  more  degraded. 
Whoever  mentioned  having  seen  them  wondered  at  the  chance 
which  had  yoked  him  to  such  a  woman,  but  yet  more  at  the 
silent  fortitude  with  which  he  bore  it.  Many  blamed  him  for 
enduring  it,  apparently  without  eiforts  to  check  her ;  others 
answered  that  he  had  probably  made  such  at  an  earlier  period, 
and,  finding  them  unavailing,  had  resigned  himself  to  despair,  and 
was  too  delicate  to  meet  the  scandal  that,  with  such  resistance 
as  such  a  woman  could  offer,  must  attend  a  formal  separation. 

"  But  my  father,  who  was  not  in  such  haste  to  come  to  con 
clusions,  and  substitute  some  plausible  explanation  for  the  truth, 
found  something  in  the  look  of  P.  at  that  trying  moment  to  which 
none  of  these  explanations  offered  a  key.  There  was  in  it,  he 
felt,  a  fortitude,  but  not  the  fortitude  of  the  hero ;  a  religious 
submission,  above  the  penitent,  if  not  enkindled  with  the  en 
thusiasm  of  the  martyr. 

"  I  have  said  that  my  father  was  not  one  of  those  who  are  ready 
to  substitute  specious  explanations  for  truth,  and  those  who  are 
thus  abstinent  rarely  lay  their  hand  on  a  thread  without  making 
it  a  clew.  Such  a  man,  like  the  dexterous  weaver,  lets  not  one 
color  go  till  he  finds  that  which  matches  it  in  the  pattern,  —  he 
keeps  on  weaving,  but  chooses  his  shades  ;  and  my  father  found  at 
last  what  he  wanted  to  make  out  the  pattern  for  himself.  He  met 
2* 


18  SUMMER    ON    THE    LAKES. 

a  lady  who  had  been  intimate  with  both  himself  and  P.  in  early 
days,  and,  finding  she  had  seen  the  latter  abroad,  asked  if  she  knew 
the  circumstances  of  the  marriage. 

"  '  The  circumstances  of  the  act  which  sealed  the  misery  of  our 
friend,  I  know/  she  said,  i  though  as  much  in  the  dark  as  any  one 
about  the  motives  that  led  to  it. 

" '  We  were  quite  intimate  with  P.  in  London,  and  he  was  our 
most  delightful  companion.  He  was  then  in  the  full  flower  of 
the  varied  accomplishments  which  set  off  his  fine  manners  and 
dignified  character,  joined,  towards  those  he  loved,  with  a  certain 
soft  willingness  which  gives  the  desirable  chivalry  to  a  man. 
None  was  more  clear  of  choice  where  his  personal  affections 
were  not  touched,  but  where  they  were,  it  cost  him  pain  to 
say  no,  on  the  slightest  occasion.  I  have  thought  this  must  have 
had  some  connection  with  the  mystery  of  his  misfortunes. 

" '  One  day  he  called  on  me,  and,  without  any  preface,  asked  if 
I  would  be  present  next  day  at  his  marriage.  I  was  so  surprised, 
and  so  unpleasantly  surprised,  that  I  did  not  at  first  answer  a 
word.  We  had  been  on  terms  so  familiar,  that  I  thought  I  knew 
all  about  him,  yet  had  never  dreamed  of  his  having  an  attach 
ment  ;  and,  though  I  had  never  inquired  on  the  subject,  yet  this 
reserve  where  perfect  openness  had  been  supposed,  and  really, 
on  my  side,  existed,  seemed  to  me  a  kind  of  treachery.  Then  it 
is  never  pleasant  to  know  that  a  heart  on  which  we  have  some 
claim  is  to  be  given  to  another.  We  cannot  tell  how  it  will 
affect  our  own  relations  with  a  person  ;  it  may  strengthen  or 
it  may  swallow  up  other  affections;  the  crisis  is  hazardous,  and 
our  first  thought,  on  such  an  occasion,  is  too  often  for  ourselves,  — 
at  least  mine  was.  Seeing  me  silent,  he  repeated  his  question. 
"  To  whom,"  said  I,  "  are  you  to  be  married  ?  "  "  That,"  he  re 
plied,  "  I  cannot  tell  you."  He  was  a  moment  silent,  then  con 
tinued,  with  an  impassive  look  of  cold  self-possession,  that 
affected  me  with  strange  sadness:  "The  name  of  the  person 
you  will  hear,  of  course,  at  the  time,  but  more  I  cannot  tell  you. 
I  need,  however,  the  presence,  not  only  of  legal,  but  of  respecta 
ble  and  friendly  witnesses.  I  have  hoped  you  and  your  husband 


THE    LAKES.  19 

would  do  me  this  kindness.  Will  you  ?  "  Something  in  his 
manner  made  it  impossible  to  refuse.  I  answered,  before  I  knew 
I  was  going  to  speak,  "  We  will,"  and  he  left  me. 

"  *  I  will  not  weary  you  with  telling  how  I  harassed  myself  and 
my  husband,  who  was,  however,  scarce  less  interested,  with  doubts 
and  conjectures.  Suffice  it  that,  next  morning,  P.  came  and  took 
us  in  a  carriage  to  a  distant  church.  We  had  just  entered  the 
porch,  when  a  cart,  such  as  fruit  and  vegetables  are  brought  to 
market  in,  drove  up,  containing  an  elderly  woman  and  a  young 
girl.  P.  assisted  them  to  alight,  and  advanced  with  the  girl  to 
the  altar. 

"  '  The  girl  was  neatly  dressed  and  quite  handsome,  yet  some 
thing  in  her  expression  displeased  me  the  moment  I  looked  upon 
her.  Meanwhile,  the  ceremony  was  going  on,  and,  at  its  close, 
P.  introduced  us  to  the  bride,  and  we  all  went  to  the  door. 
"  Good  by,  Fanny,"  said  the  elderly  woman.  The  new-made 
Mrs.  P.  replied  without  any  token  of  affection  or  emotion.  The 
woman  got  into  the  cart  and  drove  away. 

" '  From  that  time  I  saw  but  little  of  P.  or  his  wife.  I  took  our 
mutual  friends  to  see  her,  and  they  were  civil  to  her  for  his  sake. 
Curiosity  was  very  much  excited,  but  entirely  baffled  ;  no  one, 
of  course,  dared  speak  to  P.  on  the  subject,  and  no  other  means 
could  be  found  of  solving  the  riddle. 

"  '  He  treated  his  wife  with  grave  and  kind  politeness,  but  it  was 
always  obvious  that  they  had  nothing  in  common  between  them. 
Her  manners  and  tastes  were  not  at  that  time  gross,  but  her  char 
acter  showed  itself  hard  and  material.  She  was  fond  of  riding, 
and  spent  much  time  so.  Her  style  in  this,  and  in  dress,  seemed 
the  opposite  of  P.'s  ;  but  he  indulged  all  her  wishes,  while,  for 
himself,  he  plunged  into  his  own  pursuits. 

" k  For  a  time  he  seemed,  if  not  happy,  not  positively  unhappy  ; 
but,  after  a  few  years,  Mrs.  P.  fell  into  the  habit  of  drinking,  and 
then  such  scenes  as  you  witnessed  grew  frequent.  I  have  often 
heard  of  them,  and  always  that  P.  sat,  as  you  describe  him,  his 
head  bowed  down  and  perfectly  silent  all  through,  whatever  might 
be  done  or  whoever  be  present,  and  always  his  aspect  has  inspired 


20  SUMMER    ON    THE    LAKES. 

such  sympathy  that  no  person  has  questioned  him  or  resented  her 
insults,  but  merely  got  out  of  the  way  as  soon  as  possible.' 

" i  Hard  and  long  penance,'  said  my  father,  after  some  minutes 
musing,  'for  an  hour  of  passion,  probably  for  his  only  error.' 

"  *  Is  that  your  explanation  ? '  said  the  lady.  '  O,  improbable  ! 
P.  might  err,  but  not  be  led  beyond  himself.' 

"  I  know  that  his  cool,  gray  eye  and  calm  complexion  seemed  to 
say  so,  but  a  different  story  is  told  by  the  lip  that  could  tremble, 
and  showed  what  flashes  might  pierce  those  deep  blue  heavens ; 
and  when  these  over-intellectual  beings  do  swerve  aside,  it  is  to 
fall  down  a  precipice,  for  their  narrow  path  lies  over  such.  But 
he  was  not  one  to  sin  without  making  a  brave  atonement,  and 
that  it  had  become  a  holy  one,  was  written  on  that  downcast 
brow." 

The  fourth  day  on  these  waters,  the  weather  was  milder  and 
brighter,  so  that  we  could  now  see  them  to  some  purpose.  At 
night  the  moon  was  clear,  and,  for  the  first  time,  from  the  upper 
deck  I  saw  one  of  the  great  steamboats  come  majestically  up. 
It  was  glowing  with  lights,  looking  many-eyed  and  sagacious ;  in 
its  heavy  motion  it  seemed  a  dowager  queen,  and  this  motion, 
with  its  solemn  pulse,  and  determined  sweep,  becomes  these 
smooth  waters,  especially  at  night,  as  much  as  the  dip  of  the  sail- 
ship  the  long  billows  of  the  ocean. 

But  it  was  not  so  soon  that  I  learned  to  appreciate  the  lake 
scenery  ;  it  was  only  after  a  daily  and  careless  familiarity  that  I 
entered  into  its  beauty,  for  Nature  always  refuses  to  be  seen  by 
being  stared  at.  Like  Bonaparte,  she  discharges  her  face  of  all 
expression  when  she  catches  the  eye  of  impertinent  curiosity 
fixed  on  her.  But  he  who  has  gone  to  sleep  in  childish  ease  on 
her  lap,  or  leaned  an  aching  brow  upon  her  breast,  seeking  there 
comfort  with  full  trust  as  from  a  mother,  will  see  all  a  mother's 
beauty  in  the  look  she  bends  upon  him.  Later,  I  felt  that  I  had 
really  seen  these  regions,  and  shall  speak  of  them  again. 

In  the  afternoon  we  went  on  shore  at  the  Manitou  Islands, 
where  the  boat  stops  to  wood.  No  one  lives  here  except  wood 
cutters  for  the  steamboats.  I  had  thought  of  such  a  position, 


THE    LAKES.  21 

from  its  mixture  of  profound  solitude  with  service  to  the  great 
world,  as  possessing  an  ideal  beauty.  I  think  so  still,  even  after 
seeing  the  wood-cutters  and  their  slovenly  huts. 

In  times  of  slower  growth,  man  did  not  enter  a  situation  with 
out  a  certain  preparation  or  adaptedness  to  it.  He  drew  from  it, 
if  not  to  the  poetical  extent,  at  least  in  some  proportion,  its  moral 
and  its  meaning.  The  wood-cutter  did  not  cut  down  so  many 
trees  a  day,  that  the  Hamadryads  had  not  time  to  make  their 
plaints  heard  ;  the  shepherd  tended  his  sheep,  and  did  no  jobs  or 
chores  the  while ;  the  idyl  had  a  chance  to  grow  up,  and  mod 
ulate  his  oaten  pipe.  But  now  the  poet  must  be  at  the  whole 
expense  of  the  poetry  in  describing  one  of  these  positions  ;  the 
worker  is  a  true  Midas  to  the  gold  he  makes.  The  poet  must 
describe,  as  the  painter  sketches  Irish  peasant-girls  and  Danish 
fishwives,  adding  the  beauty,  and  leaving  out  the  dirt. 

I  come  to  the  West  prepared  for  the  distaste  I  must  experience 
at  its  mushroom  growth.  I  know  that,  where  "  go  ahead  "  is  the 
only  motto,  the  village  cannot  grow  into  the  gentle  proportions 
that  successive  lives  and  the  gradations  of  experience  involun 
tarily  give.  In  older  countries  the  house  of  the  son  grew  from 
that  of  the  father,  as  naturally  as  new  joints  on  a  bough,  and 
the  cathedral  crowned  the  whole  as  naturally  as  the  leafy  summit 
the  tree.  This  cannot  be  here.  The  march  of  peaceful  is  scarce 
less  wanton  than  that  of  warlike  invasion.  The  old  landmarks 
are  broken  down,  and  the  land,  for  a  season,  bears  none,  except 
of  the  rudeness  of  conquest  and  the  needs  of  the  day,  whose 
bivouac-fires  blacken  the  sweetest  forest  glades.  I  have  come 
prepared  to  see  all  this,  to  dislike  it,  but  not  with  stupid  narrow 
ness  to  distrust  or  defame.  On  the  contrary,  while  I  will  not  be 
so  obliging  as  to  confound  ugliness  with  beauty,  discord  with  har 
mony,  and  laud  and  be  contented  with  all  I  meet,  when  it  con 
flicts  with  my  best  desires  and  tastes,  I  trust  by  reverent  faith  to 
woo  the  mighty  meaning  of  the  scene,  perhaps  to  foresee  the  law 
by  which  a  new  order,  a  new  poetry,  is  to  be  evoked  from  this 
chaos,  and  with  a  curiosity  as  ardent,  but  not  so  selfish,  as  that  of 
Macbeth,  to  call  up  the  apparitions  of  future  kings  from  the 


22  SUMMER    ON    THE    LAKES. 

strange  ingredients  of  the  witch's  caldron.  Thus  I  will  not  grieve 
that  all  the  noble  trees  are  gone  already  from  this  island  to  feed 
this  caldron,  but  believe  it  will  have  Medea's  virtue,  and  repro 
duce  them  in  the  form  of  new  intellectual  growths,  since  centuries 
cannot  again  adorn  the  land  with  such  as  have  been  removed. 

On  this  most  beautiful  beach  of  smooth  white  pebbles,  inter 
spersed  with  agates  and  cornelians  for  those  who  know  how  to 
find  them,  we  stepped,  not  like  the  Indian,  with  some  humble  of 
fering,  which,  if  no  better  than  an  arrow-head  or  a  little  parched 
corn,  would,  he  judged,  please  the  Manitou,  who  looks  only  at 
the  spirit  in  which  it  is  offered.  Our  visit  was  so  far  for  a  relig 
ious  purpose  that  one  of  our  party  went  to  inquire  the  fate  of 
some  Unitarian  tracts  left  among  the  wood-cutters  a  year  or  two 
before.  But  the  old  Manitou,  though,  daunted  like  his  children 
by  the  approach  of  the  fire-ships,  which  he  probably  considered 
demons  of  a  new  dynasty,  he  had  suffered  his  woods  to  be  felled 
to  feed  their  pride,  had  been  less  patient  of  an  encroachment 
which  did  not  to  him  seem  so  authorized  by  the  law  of  the  strong 
est,  and  had  scattered  those  leaves  as  carelessly  as  the  others  of 
that  year. 

But  S.  and  I,  like  other  emigrants,  went,  not  to  give,  but  to  get, 
to  rifle  the  wood  of  flowers  for  the  service  of  the  fire-ship.  We 
returned  with  a  rich  booty,  among  which  was  the  Uva-ursi,  whose 
leaves  the  Indians  smoke,  with  the  Kinnikinnik,  and  which  had 
then  just  put  forth  its  highly  finished  little  blossoms,  as  pretty 
as  those  of  the  blueberry. 

Passing  along  still  further,  I  thought  it  would  be  well  if  the 
crowds  assembled  to  stare  from  the  various  landings  were  still 
confined  to  the  Kinnikinnik,  for  almost  all  had  tobacco  written 
on  their  faces,  their  cheeks  rounded  with  plugs,  their  eyes  dull 
with  its  fumes.  We  reached  Chicago  on  the  evening  of  the  sixth 
day,  having  been  out  five  days  and  a  half,  a  rather  longer  passage 
than  usual  at  a  favorable  season  of  the  year. 

Chicago,  June  20. 

There  can  be  no  two  places  in  the  world  more  completely 
thoroughfares  than  this  place  and  Buffalo.  They  are  the  two 


CHICAGO.  23 

correspondent  valves  that  open  and  shut  all  the  time,  as  the  life- 
blood  rushes  from  east  to  west,  and  back  again  from  west  to  east. 

Since  it  is  their  office  thus  to  be  the  doors,  and  let  in  and  out, 
it  would  be  unfair  to  expect  from  them  much  character  of  their 
own.  To  make  the  best  provisions  for  the  transmission  of  prod 
uce  is  their  office,  and  the  people  who  live  there  are  such  as  are 
suited  for  this,  —  active,  complaisant,  inventive,  business  people. 
There  are  no  provisions  for  the  student  or  idler ;  to  know  what 
the  place  can  give,  you  should  be  at  work  with  the  rest;  the 
mere  traveller  will  not  find  it  profitable  to  loiter  there  as  I  did. 

Since  circumstances  made  it  necessary  for  me  so  to  do,  I  read 
all  the  books  I  could  find  about  the  new  region,  which  now  began 
to  become  real  to  me.  Especially  I  read  all  the  books  about  the 
Indians,  —  a  paltry  collection  truly,  yet  which  furnished  material 
for  many  thoughts.  The  most  narrow-minded  and  awkward 
recital  still  bears  some  lineaments  of  the  great  features  of  this 
nature,  and  the  races  of  men  that  illustrated  them. 

Catlin's  book  is  far  the  best.  I  was  afterwards  assured  by 
those  acquainted  with  the  regions  he  describes,  that  he  is  not  to 
be  depended  on  for  the  accuracy  of  his  facts,  and  indeed  it  is  ob 
vious,  without  the  aid  of  such  assertions,  that  he  sometimes  yields 
to  the  temptation  of  making  out  a  story.  They  admitted,  how 
ever,  what  from  my  feelings  I  was  sure  of,  that  he  is  true  to  the 
spirit  of  the  scene,  and  that  a  far  better  view  can  be  got  from  him 
than  from  any  source  at  present  existing,  of  the  Indian  tribes  of 
the  Far  West,  and  of  the  country  where  their  inheritance  lay. 

Murray's  Travels  I  read,  and  was  charmed  by  their  accuracy 
and  clear,  broad  tone.  He  is  the  only  Englishman  that  seems  to 
have  traversed  these  regions  as  man  simply,  not  as  John  Bull. 
He  deserves  to  belong  to  an  aristocracy,  for  he  showed  his  title  to 
it  more  when  left  without  a  guide  in  the  wilderness,  than  he  can 
at  the  court  of  Victoria.  He  has,  himself,  no  poetic  force  at  de 
scription,  but  it  is  easy  to  make  images  from  his  hints.  Yet  we 
believe  the  Indian  cannot  be  locked  at  truly  except  by  a  poetic 
eye.  The  Pawnees,  no  doubt,  are  such  as  he  describes  them, 
filthy  in  their  habits,  and  treacherous  in  their  character,  but  some 


24  SUMMER    ON    THE    LAKES. 

would  have  seen,  and  seen  truly,  more  beauty  and  dignity  than 
he  does  with  all  his  manliness  and  fairness  of  mind.  However, 
his  one  fine  old  man  is  enough  to  redeem  the  rest,  and  is  per 
haps  the  relic  of  a  better  day,  a  Phocion  among  the  Pawnees. 

Schoolcraft's  Algic  Researches  is  a  valuable  book,  though  a 
worse  use  could  hardly  have  been  made  of  such  fine  material. 
Had  the  mythological  or  hunting  stories  of  the  Indians  been  writ 
ten  down  exactly  as  they  were  received  from  the  lips  of  the  nar 
rators,  the  collection  could  not  have  been  surpassed  in  interest? 
both  for  the  wild  charm  they  carry  with  them,  and  the  light  they 
throw  on  a  peculiar  modification  of  life  and  mind.  As  it  is,  though 
the  incidents  have  an  air  of  originality  and  pertinence  to  the  oc 
casion,  that  gives  us  confidence  that  they  have  not  been  altered, 
the  phraseology  in  which  they  were  expressed  has  been  entirely 
set  aside,  and  the  flimsy  graces,  common  to  the  style  of  annuals 
and  souvenirs,  substituted  for  the  Spartan  brevity  and  sinewy 
grasp  of  Indian  speech.  We  can  just  guess  what  might  have 
been  there,  as  we  can  detect  the  fine  proportions  of  the  Brave 
whom  the  bad  taste  of  some  white  patron  has  arranged  in  frock- 
coat,  hat,  and  pantaloons. 

The  few  stories  Mrs.  Jameson  wrote  out,  though  to  these  also 
a  sentimental  air  has  been  given,  offend  much  less  in  that  way 
than  is  common  in  this  book.  What  would  we  not  give  for  a  com 
pletely  faithful  version  of  some  among  them  !  Yet,  with  all  these 
drawbacks,  we  cannot  doubt  from  internal  evidence  that  they  truly 
ascribe  to  the  Indian  a  delicacy  of  sentiment  and  of  fancy  that 
justifies  Cooper  in  such  inventions  as  his  Uncas.  It  is  a  white 
man's  view  of  a  savage  hero,  who  would  be  far  finer  in  his  nat 
ural  proportions  ;  still,  through  a  masquerade  figure,  it  implies 
the  truth. 

Irving's  books  I  also  read,  some  for  the  first,  some  for  the  second 
time,  with  increased  interest,  now  that  I  was  to  meet  such  people 
as  he  received  his  materials  from.  Though  the  books  are  pleasing 
from  their  grace  and  luminous  arrangement,  yet,  with  the  excep 
tion  of  the  Tour  to  the  Prairies,  they  have  a  stereotype,  second- 
•  hand  air.  They  lack  the  breath,  the  glow,  the  charming  minute 


CHICAGO.  25 

traits  of  living  presence.  His  scenery  is  only  fit  to  be  glanced  at 
from  dioramic  distance  ;  his  Indians  are  academic  figures  only. 
He  would  have  made  the  best  of  pictures,  if  he  could  have  used 
his  own  eyes  for  studies  and  sketches  ;  as  it  is,  his  success  is  won 
derful,  but  inadequate. 

McKenney's  Tour  to  the  Lakes  is  the  dullest  of  books,  yet 
faithful  and  quiet,  and  gives  some  facts  not  to  be  met  with  every 
where. 

I  also  read  a  collection  of  Indian  anecdotes  and  speeches,  the 
worst  compiled  and  arranged  book  possible,  yet  not  without  clews 
of  some  value.  All  these  books  I  read  in  anticipation  of  a  canoe- 
voyage  on  Lake  Superior  as  far  as  the  Pictured  Rocks,  and, 
though  I  was  afterwards  compelled  to  give  up  this  project,  they 
aided  me  in  judging  of  what  I  subsequently  saw  and  heard  of  the 
Indians. 

In  Chicago  I  first  saw  the  beautiful  prairie-flowers.  They 
were  in  their  glory  the  first  ten  days  we  were  there,  — 

"  The  golden  and  the  flame-like  flowers." 

The  flame-like  flower  I  was  taught  afterwards,  by  an  Indian 
girl,  to  call  "  Wickapee  "  ;  and  she  told  me,  too,  that  its  splendors 
had  a  useful  side,  for  it  was  used  by  the  Indians  as  a  remedy  for 
an  illness  to  which  they  were  subject. 

Beside  these  brilliant  flowers,  which  gemmed  and  gilt  the  grass 
in  a  sunny  afternoon's  drive  near  the  blue  lake,  between  the  low 
oak-wood  and  the  narrow  beach,  stimulated,  whether  sensuously 
by  the  optic  nerve,  unused  to  so  much  gold  and  crimson  with 
such  tender  green,  or  symbolically  through  some  meaning  dimly 
seen  in  the  flowers,  I  enjoyed  a  sort  of  fairy-land  exultation  never 
felt  before,  and  the  first  drive  amid  the  flowers  gave  me  anticipa 
tion  of  the  beauty  of  the  prairies. 

At  first,  the  prairie  seemed  to  speak  of  the  very  desolation  of 
dulness.  After  sweeping  over  the  vast  monotony  of  the  lakes 
to  come  to  this  monotony  of  land,  with  all  around  a  limitless  hori 
zon,  —  to  walk,  and  walk,  and  run,  but  never  climb,  oh  !  it  was 
too  dreary  for  any  but  a  Hollander  to  bear.  How  the  eye  greeted 
3 


26  SUMMER    ON    THE    LAKES. 

the  approach  of  a  sail,  or  the  smoke  of  a  steamboat ;  it  seemed 
that  anything  so  animated  must  come  from  a  better  land,  where 
mountains  gave  religion  to  the  scene. 

The  only  thing  I  liked  at  first  to  do  was  to  trace  with  slow 
and  unexpecting  step  the  narrow  margin  of  the  lake.  Sometimes 
a  heavy  swell  gave  it  expression  ;  at  others,  only  its  varied  col 
oring,  which  I  found  more  admirable  every  day,  and  which  gave 
it  an  air  of  mirage  instead  of  the  vastness  of  ocean.  Then  there 
was  a  grandeur  in  the  feeling  that  I  might  continue  that  walk,  if 
I  had  any  seven-leagued  mode  of  conveyance  to  save  fatigue, 
for  hundreds  of  miles  without  an  obstacle  and  without  a  change. 

But  after  I  had  ridden  out,  and  seen  the  flowers,  and  observed 
the  sun  set  with  that  calmness  seen  only  in  the  prairies,  and  the 
cattle  winding  slowly  to  their  homes  in  the  "island  groves,"  —  most 
peaceful  of  sights,  —  I  began  to  love,  because  I  began  to  know 
the  scene,  and  shrank  no  longer  from  "  the  encircling  vastness." 

It  is  always  thus  with  the  new  form  of  life  ;  we  must  learn  to 
look  at  it  by  its  own  standard.  At  first,  no  doubt,  my  accustomed 
eye  kept  saying,  if  the  mind  did  not,  What !  no  distant  mountains  ? 
What!  no  valleys  ?  But  after  a  while  I  would  ascend  the  roof  of 
the  house  where  we  lived,  and  pass  many  hours^needing  no  sight 
but  the  moon  reigning  in  the  heavens,  or  starlight  falling  upon 
the  lake,  till  all  the  lights  were  out  in  the  island  grove  of  men 
beneath  my  feet,  and  felt  nearer  heaven  that  there  was  nothing 
but  this  lovely,  still  reception  on  the  earth  ;  no  towering  moun 
tains,  no  deep  tree-shadows,  nothing  but  plain  earth  and  water 
bathed  in  light. 

Sunset,  as  seen  from  that  place,  presented  most  generally,  low- 
lying,  flaky  clouds,  of  the  softest  serenity. 

One  night  a  star  "shot  madly  from  its  sphere,"  and  it  had  a  fair 
chance  to  be  seen,  but  that  serenity  could  not  be  astonished. 

Yes  !  it  was  a  peculiar  beauty,  that  of  those  sunsets  and  moon 
lights  on  the  levels  of  Chicago,  which  Chamouny  or  the  Trosachs 
could  not  make  me  forget.* 

*  "  From  the  prairie  near  Chicago  had  I  seen,  some  days  before,  the  sun  set  with 


GENEVA.  27 

Notwithstanding  all  the  attractions  I  thus  found  out  by  degrees 
on  the  flat  shores  of  the  lake,  I  was  delighted  when  I  found  my 
self  really  on  my  way  into  the  country  for  an  excursion  of  two  or 
three  weeks.  We  set  forth  in  a  strong  wagon,  almost  as  large, 
and  with  the  look  of  those  used  elsewhere  for  transporting  cara 
vans  of  wild  beasts,  loaded  with  everything  we  might  want,  in 
case  nobody  would  give  it  to  us, —  for  buying  and  selling  "were  no 
longer  to  be  counted  on,  —  with  a  pair  of  strong  horses,  able  and 
willing  to  force  their  way  through  mud-holes  and  amid  stumps, 
and  a  guide,  equally  admirable  as  marshal  and  companion,  who 
knew  by  heart  the  country  and  its  history,  both  natural  and  arti 
ficial,  and  whose  clear  hunter's  eye  needed  neither  road  nor  goal 
to  guide  it  to  all  the  spots  where  beauty  best  loves  to  dwell. 

Add  to  this  the  finest  weather,  and  such  country  as  I  had  never 
seen,  even  in  my  dreams,  although  these  dreams  had  been  haunted 
by  wishes  for  just  such  a  one,  and  you  may  judge  whether  years 
of  dulness  might  not,  by  these  bright  days,  be  redeemed,  and  a 
sweetness  be  shed  over  all  thoughts  of  the  West. 

The  first  day  brought  us  through  woods  rich  in  the  moccason- 
flower  and  lupine,  and  plains  whose  soft  expanse  was  continually 
touched  with  expression  by  the  slow  moving  clouds  which 

"  Sweep  over  with  their  shadows,  and  beneath 
The  surface  rolls  and  fluctuates  to  the  eye; 
Dark  hollows  seem  to  glide  along  and  chase 
The  sunny  ridges," 

to  the  banks  of  the  Fox  River,  a  sweet  and  graceful  stream.  We 
reached  Geneva  just  in  time  to  escape  being  drenched  by  a  vio 
lent  thunder-shower,  whose  rise  and  disappearance  threw  expres 
sion  into  all  the  features  of  the  scene. 

Geneva  reminds  me  of  a  New  England  village,  as  indeed  there, 
and  in  the  neighborhood,  are  many  New-Englanders  of  an  ex- 


that  calmness  observed  only  on  the  prairies.  I  know  not  what  it  says,  but  some 
thing  qiiite  different  from  sunset  at  sea.  There  is  no  motion  except  of  waving 
grasses,  —  the  cattle  move  slowly  homeward  in  the  distance.  That  home!  where 
is  it?  It  seems  as  if  there  was  no  home,  and  no  need  of  one,  and  there  is  room 
enough  to  wander  on  for  ever." — Manuscript  Notes. 


28  SUMMER    ON    THE    LAKES. 

cellent  stamp,  generous,  intelligent,  discreet,  and  seeking  to  win 
from  life  its  true  values.  Such  are  much  wanted,  and  seem  like 
points  of  light  among  the  swarms  of  settlers,  whose  aims  are  sor 
did,  whose  habits  thoughtless  and  slovenly.* 

With  great  pleasure  we  heard,  with  his  attentive  and  affection 
ate  congregation,  the  Unitarian  clergyman,  Mr.  Conant,  and  after 
ward  visited  him  in  his  house,  where  almost  everything  bore 
traces  of  his  own  handiwork  or  that  of  his  father.  He  is  just 
such  a  teacher  as  is  wanted  in  this  region,  familiar  enough  with 
the  habits  of  those  he  addresses  to  come  home  to  their  experience 
and  their  wants  ;  earnest  and  enlightened  enough  to  draw  the 
important  inferences  from  the  life  of  every  day-t 

A  day  or  two  we  remained  here,  and  passed  some  happy  hours 
in  the  woods  that  fringe  the  stream,  where  the  gentlemen  found  a 
rich  booty  of  fish. 

Next  day,  travelling  along  the  river's  banks,  was  an  uninter 
rupted  pleasure.  We  closed  our  drive  in  the  afternoon  at  the 
house  of  an  English  gentleman,  who  has  gratified,  as  few  men  do, 
the  common  Avish  to  pass  the  evening  of  an  active  day  amid  the 
quiet  influences  of  country  life.  He  showed  us  a  bookcase  filled 
with  books  about  this  country  ;  these  he  had  collected  for  years, 
and  become  so  familiar  with  the  localities,  that,  on  coming  here  at 
last,  he  sought  and  found,  at  once,  the  very  spot  he  wanted,  and 


*  "We  passed  a  portion  of  one  day  with  Mr.  and  Mrs. ,  young,  healthy, 

and,  thank  Heaven,  gay  people.  In  the  general  dulness  that  broods  over  this  land 
where  so  little  genius  flows,  and  care,  business,  and  fashionable  frivolity  are  equal 
ly  dull,  unspeakable  is  the  relief  of  some  flashes  of  vivacity,  some  sparkles  of  wit. 
Of  course  it  is  hard  enough  for  those,  most  natively  disposed  that  way,  to  strike 
fire.  I  would  willingly  be  the  tinder  to  promote  the  cheering  blaze." — Manu 
script  Notes. 

•f  "  Let  any  who  think  men  do  not  need  or  want  the  church,  hear  these  people 
talk  about  it  as  if  it  were  the  only  indispensable  thing,  and  see  what  I  saw  in 
Chicago.  An  elderly  lady  from  Philadelphia,  who  had  been  visiting  her  sons  in 
the  West,  arrived  there  about  one  o'clock  on  a  hot  Sunday  noon.  She  rang  the 
bell  and  requested  a  room  immediately,  as  she  wanted  to  get  ready  for  afternoon 
service.  Some  delay  occurring,  she  expressed  great  regret,  as  she  had  ridden  all 
Might  for  the  sake  of  attending  church.  She  went  to  church,  neither  having  dined 
nor  taken  any  repose  after  her  journey."  — Manuscript  Notes. 


A    THFNDKK-STORM.  29 

where  he  is  as  content  as  he  hoped  to  be,  thus  realizing  Words 
worth's  description  of  the  wise  man,  who  "  sees  what  he  foresaw." 

A  wood  surrounds  the  house,  through  which  paths  are  cut  in 
every  direction.  It  is,  for  this  new  country,  a  large  and  hand 
some  dwelling ;  but  round  it  are  its  barns  and  farm-yard,  with 
cattle  and  poultry.  These,  however,  in  the  framework  of  wood, 
have  a  very  picturesque  and  pleasing  effect.  There  is  that  mix 
ture  of  culture  and  rudeness  in  the  aspect  of  things  which  gives  a 
feeling  of  freedom,  not  of  confusion. 

I  wish  it  were  possible  to  give  some  idea  of  this  scene,  as  viewed 
by  the  earliest  freshness  of  dewy  dawn.  This  habitation  of  man 
seemed  like  a  nest  in  the  grass,  so  thoroughly  were  the  buildings 
and  all  the  objects  of  human  care  harmonized  with  what  was 
natural.  The  tall  trees  bent  and  whispered  all  around,  as  if  to  hail 
with  sheltering  love  the  men  who  had  come  to  dwell  among  them. 

The  young  ladies  were  musicians,  and  spoke  French  fluently, 
having  been  educated  in  a  convent.  Here  in  the  prairie,  they 
had  learned  to  take  care  of  the  milk-room,  and  kill  the  rattle 
snakes  that  assailed  their  poultry -yard.  Beneath  the  shade  of 
heavy  curtains  you  looked  out  from  the  high  and  large  windows 
to  see  Norwegian  peasants  at  work  in  their  national  dress.  In 
the  wood  grew,  not  only  the  flowers  I  had  before  seen,  and  wealth 
of  tall,  wild  roses,  but  the  splendid  blue  spiderwort,  that  orna 
ment  of  our  gardens.  Beautiful  children  strayed  there,  who  were 
soon  to  leave  these  civilized  regions  for  some  really  wild  and 
western  place,  a  post  in  the  buffalo  country.  Their  no  less  beau 
tiful  mother  was  of  Welsh  descent,  and  the  eldest  child  bore  the 
name  of  Gwynthleon.  Perhaps  there  she  will  meet  with  some 
young  descendants  of  Madoc,  to  be  her  friends ;  at  any  rate,  her 
looks  may  retain  that  sweet,  wild  beauty,  that  is  soon  made  to 
vanish  from  eyes  which  look  too  much  on  shops  and  streets,  and 
the  vulgarities  of  city  "  parties." 

Next  day  we  crossed  the  river.     We  ladies  crossed  on  a  little 

foot-bridge,  from  which  we  could  look  down  the  stream,  and  see 

the  wagon  pass  over  at  the  ford.     A  black  thunder-cloud  was 

coming  up ;  the  sky  and  waters  heavy  with  expectation.     The 

3* 


30  SUMMER    ON    THE    LAKES. 

motion  of  the  wagon,  with  its  white  cover,  and  the  laboring  horses, 
gave  just  the  due  interest  to  the  picture,  because  it  seemed  as  if 
they  would  not  have  time  to  cross  before  the  storm  came  on. 
However,  they  did  get  across,  and  we  were  a  mile  or  two  on  our 
way  before  the  violent  shower  obliged  us  to  take  refuge  in  a  soli 
tary  house  upon  the  prairie.  In  this  country  it  is  as  pleasant  to 
stop  as  to  go  on,  to  lose  your  way  as  to  find  it,  for  the  variety  in 
the  population  gives  you  a  chance  for  fresh  entertainment  in  every 
hut,  and  the  luxuriant  beauty  makes  every  path  attractive.  In  this 
house  we  found  a  family  "  quite  above  the  common,"  but,  I  grieve 
to  say,  not  above  false  pride,  for  the  father,  ashamed  of  being  caught 
barefoot,  told  us  a  story  of  a  man,  one  of  the  richest  men,  he  said,  in 
one  of  the  Eastern  cities,  who  went  barefoot,  from  choice  and  taste. 

Near  the  door  grew  a  Provence  rose,  then  in  blossom.  Other 
families  we  saw  had  brought  with  them  and  planted  the  locust. 
It  was  pleasant  to  see  their  old  home  loves,  brought  into  connec 
tion  with  their  new  splendors.  Wherever  there  were  traces  of 
this  tenderness  of  feeling,  only  too  rare  among  Americans,  other 
things  bore  signs  also  of  prosperity  and  intelligence,  as  if  the 
ordering  mind  of  man  had  some  idea  of  home  beyond  a  mere 
shelter  beneath  which  to  eat  and  sleep. 

No  heaven  need  wear  a  lovelier  aspect  than  earth  did  this 
afternoon,  after  the  clearing  up  of  the  shower.  We  traversed 
the  blooming  plain,  unmarked  by  any  road,  only  the  friendly 
track  of  wheels  which  bent,  not  broke,  the  grass.  Our  stations 
were  not  from  town  to  town,  but  from  grove  to  grove.  These 
groves  first  floated  like  blue  islands  in  the  distance.  As  we  drew 
nearer,  they  seemed  fair  parks,  and  the  little  log-houses  on  the 
edge,  with  their  curling  smokes,  harmonized  beautifully  with  them. 

One  of  these  groves,  Ross's  Grove,  we  reached  just  at  sunset. 
It  was  of  the  noblest  trees  I  saw  during  this  journey,  for  generally 
the  trees  were  not  large  or  lofty,  but  only  of  fair  proportions. 
Here  they  were  large  enough  to  form  with  their  clear  stems  pil 
lars  for  grand  cathedral  aisles.  There  was  space  enough  for 
crimson  light  to  stream  through  upon  the  floor  of  water  which  the 
shower  had  left.  As  we  slowly  plashed  through,  I  thought  I  was 
never  in  a  better  place  for  vespers. 


PAPAW    GROYE.  31 

That  night  we  rested,  or  rather  tarried,  at  a  grove  some  miles 
beyond,  and  there  partook  of  the  miseries,  so  often  jocosely  por 
trayed,  of  bedchambers  for  twelve,  a  milk  dish  for  universal  hand- 
basin,  and  expectations  that  you  would  use  and  lend  your  "  han- 
kercher  "  for  a  towel.  But  this  was  the  only  night,  thanks  to  the 
hospitality  of  private  families,  that  we  passed  thus  ;  and  it  was 
well  that  we  had  this  bit  of  experience,  else  might  we  have  pro 
nounced  all  Trollopian  records  of  the  kind  to  be  inventions  of 
pure  malice. 

With  us  was  a  young  lady  who  showed  herself  to  have  been 
bathed  in  the  Britannic  fluid,  wittily  described  by  a  late  French 
writer,  by  the  impossibility  she  experienced  of  accommodating 
herself  to  the  indecorums  of  the  scene.  We  ladies  were  to  sleep 
in  the  bar-room,  from  which  its  drinking  visitors  could  be  ejected 
only  at  a  late  hour.  The  outer  door  had  no  fastening  to  prevent 
their  return.  However,  our  host  kindly  requested  we  would  call 
him,  if  they  did,  as  he  had  "  conquered  them  for  us,"  and  would 
do  so  again.  We  had  also  rather  hard  couches  (mine  was  the 
supper-table)  ;  but  we  Yankees,  born  to  rove,  were  altogether  too 
much  fatigued  to  stand  upon  trifles,  and  slept  as  sweetly  as  we 
would  in  the  "  bigly  bower  "  of  any  baroness.  But  I  think  Eng 
land  sat  up  all  night,  wrapped  in  her  blanket-shawl,  and  with  a 
neat  lace  cap  upon  her  head,  —  so  that  she  would  have  looked  per 
fectly  the  lady,  if  any  one  had  come  in,  —  shuddering  and  listening. 
I  know  that  she  was  very  ill  next  day,  in  requital.  She  watched, 
as  her  parent  country  watches  the  seas,  that  nobody  may  do  wrong 
in  any  case,  and  deserved  to  have  met  some  interruption,  she  was 
so  well  prepared.  However,  there  was  none,  other  than  from  the 
nearness  of  some  twenty  sets  of  powerful  lungs,  which  would  not 
leave  the  night  to  a  deathly  stillness.  In  this  house  we  had,  if  not 
good  beds,  yet  good  tea,  good  bread,  and  wild  strawberries,  and 
were  entertained  with  most  free  communications  of  opinion  and 
history  from  our  hosts.  Neither  shall  any  of  us  have  a  right  to 
say  again  that  we  cannot  find  any  who  may  be  willing  to  hear  all 
we  may  have  to  say.  "  A 's  fish  that  comes  to  the  net,"  should  be 
painted  on  the  sign  at  Papaw  Grove. 


CHAPTER    III. 

ROCK  RIVER. OREGON. ANCIENT  INDIAN  VILLAGE. GANY 
MEDE  TO  HIS  EAGLE. WESTERN  FOURTH  OF  JULY  CELE 
BRATION.  WOMEN  IN  THE  WEST. KISIIWAUKIE. BEL- 

VIDERE.  FAREWELL. 

IN  the  afternoon  of  this  day  we  reached  the  Rock  River,  in 
whose  neighborhood  we  proposed  to  make  some  stay,  and  crossed 
at  Dixon's  Ferry. 

This  beautiful  stream  flows  full  and  wide  over  a  bed  of  rocks, 
traversing  a  distance  of  near  two  hundred  miles,  to  reach  the 
Mississippi.  Great  part  of  the  country  along  its  banks  is  the 
finest  region  of  Illinois,  and  the  scene  of  some  of  the  latest 
romance  of  Indian  warfare.  To  these  beautiful  regions  Black 
Hawk  returned  with  his  band  "  to  pass  the  summer,"  when  lie 
drew  upon  himself  the  warfare  in  which  he  was  finally  van 
quished.  No  wonder  he  could  not  resist  the  longing,  unwise 
though  its  indulgence  might  be,  to  return  in  summer  to  this 
home  of  beauty. 

Of  Illinois,  in  general,  it  has  often  been  remarked,  that  it  bears 
the  character  of  country  which  has  been  inhabited  by  a  nation 
skilled  like  the  English  in  all  the  ornamental  arts  of  life,  espe 
cially  in  landscape-gardening.  The  villas  and  castles  seem  to 
have  been  burnt,  the  enclosures  taken  down,  but  the  velvet 
lawns,  the  flower-gardens,  the  stately  parks,  scattered  at  graceful 
intervals  by  the  decorous  hand  of  art,  the  frequent  deer,  and  the 
peaceful  herd  of  cattle  that  make  picture  of  the  plain,  all  sug 
gest  more  of  the  masterly  mind  of  man,  than  the  prodigal,  but 
careless,  motherly  love  of  Nature.  Especially  is  this  true  of  the 


ROCK    RIVER.  33 

Rock  River  country.  The  river  flows  sometimes  through  these 
parks  and  lawns,  then  betwixt  high  bluffs,  whose  grassy  ridges 
are  covered  with  fine  trees,  or  broken  with  crumbling  stone,  that 
easily  assumes  the  forms  of  buttress,  arch,  and  clustered  columns. 
Along  the  face  of  such  crumbling  rocks,  swallows'  nests  are 
clustered,  thick  as  cities,  and  eagles  and  deer  do  not  disdain 
their  summits.  One  morning,  out  in  the  boat  along  the  base  of 
these  rocks,  it  was  amusing,  and  affecting  too,  to  see  these  swal 
lows  put  their  heads  out  to  look  at  us.  There  was  something 
very  hospitable  about  it,  as  if  man  had  never  shown  himself  a 
tyrant  near  them.  What  a  morning  that  was !  Every  sight  is 
worth  twice  as  much  by  the  early  morning  light.  We  borrow 
semething  of  the  spirit  of  the  hour  to  look  upon  them. 

The  first  place  where  we  stopped  was  one  of  singular  beauty, 
a  beauty  of  soft,  luxuriant  wildness.  It  was  on  the  bend  of  the 
river,  a  place  chosen  by  an  Irish  gentleman,  whose  absenteeship 
seems  of  the  wisest  kind,  since,  for  a  sum  which  would  have  been 
but  a  drop  of  water  to  the  thirsty  fever  of  his  native  land,  he 
commands  a  residence  which  has  all  that  is  desirable,  in  its  inde 
pendence,  its  beautiful  retirement,  and  means  of  benefit  to  others. 

His  park,  his  deer-chase,  he  found  already  prepared  ;  he  had 
only  to  make  an  avenue  through  it.  This  brought  us  to  the  house 
by  a  drive,  which  in  the  heat  of  noon  seemed  long,  though  after 
wards,  in  the  cool  of  morning  and  evening,  delightful.  This  is, 
for  that  part  of  the  world,  a  large  and  commodious  dwelling. 
Near  it  stands  the  log-cabin  where  its  master  lived  while  it  was 
building,  a  very  ornamental  accessory. 

In  front  of  the  house  was  a  lawn,  adorned  by  the  most  grace 
ful  trees.  A  few  of  these  had  been  taken  out  to  give  a  full  view 
of  the  river,  gliding  through  banks  such  as  I  have  described. 
On  this  bend  the  bank  is  high  and  bold,  so  from  the  house  or  the 
lawn  the  view  was  very  rich  and  commanding.  But  if  you  de 
scended  a  ravine  at  the  side  to  the  water's  edge,  you  found  there  a 
long  walk  on  the  narrow  shore,  with  a  wall  above  of  the  richest 
hanging  wood,  in  which  they  said  the  deer  lay  hid.  I  never  saw 
one,  but  often  fancied  tliat  I  heard  them  rustling,  at  daybreak,  by 


34  SUMMER    ON    THE    LAKES. 

these  bright,  clear  waters,  stretching  out  in  such  smiling  promise, 
where  no  sound  broke  the  deep  and  blissful  seclusion,  unless  now 
and  then  this  rustling,  or  the  splash  of  some  fish  a  little  gayer 
than  the  others ;  it  seemed  not  necessary  to  have  any  better 
heaven,  or  fuller  expression  of  love  and  freedom,  than  in  the 
mood  of  Nature  here. 

Then,  leaving  the  bank,  you  would  walk  far  and  yet  farther 
through  long,  grassy  paths,  full  of  the  most  brilliant,  also  the 
most  delicate  flowers.  The  brilliant  are  more  common  on  the 
prairie,  but  both  kinds  loved  this  place. 

Amid  the  grass  of  the  lawn,  with  a  profusion  of  wild  straw 
berries,  we  greeted  also  a  familiar  love,  the  Scottish  harebell, 
the  gentlest  and  most  touching  form  of  the  flower-world. 

The  master  of  the  house  was  absent,  but  with  a  kindness 
beyond  thanks  had  offered  us  a  resting-place  there.  Here  we 
were  taken  care  of  by  a  deputy,  who  would,  for  his  youth,  have 
been  assigned  the  place  of  a  page  in  former  times,  but  in  the 
young  West,  it  seems,  he  was  old  enough  for  a  steward.  What 
ever  be  called  his  function,  he  did  the  honors  of  the  place  so 
much  in  harmony  with  it,  as  to  leave  the  guests  free  to  imagine 
themselves  in  Elysium.  And  the  three  days  passed  here  were 
days  of  unalloyed,  spotless  happiness. 

There  was  a  peculiar  charm  in  coming  here,  where  the  choice 
of  location,  and  the  unobtrusive  good  taste  of  all  the  arrange 
ments,  showed  such  intelligent  appreciation  of  the  spirit  of  the 
scene,  after  seeing  so  many  dwellings  of  the  new  settlers,  which 
showed  plainly  that  they  had  no  thought  beyond  satisfying  the 
grossest  material  wants.  Sometimes  they  looked  attractive,  these 
little  brown  houses,  the  natural  architecture  of  the  country,  in  the 
edge  of  the  timber.  But  almost  always.,  when  you  came  near 
the  slovenliness  of  the  dwelling,  and  the  rude  way  in  which  ob 
jects  around  it  were  treated,  when  so  little  care  would  have 
presented  a  charming  whole,  were  very  repulsive.  Seeing  the 
traces  of  the  Indians,  who  chose  the  most  beautiful  sites  for  their 
dwellings,  and  whose  habits  do  not  break  in  on  that  aspect  of 
Nature  under  which  they  were  born,  we  feel  as  if  they  were  the 


ROCK   RIVER.  35 

rightful  lords  of  a  beauty  they  forbore  to  deform.  But  most  of 
these  settlers  do  not  see  it  at  all ;  it  breathes,  it  speaks  in  vain  to 
those  who  are  rushing  into  its  sphere.  Their  progress  is  Gothic, 
not  Roman,  and  their  mode  of  cultivation  will,  in  the  course  of 
twenty,  perhaps  ten  years,  obliterate  the  natural  expression  of 
the  country. 

This  is  inevitable,  fatal ;  we  must  not  complain,  but  look  for 
ward  to  a  good  result.  Still,  in  travelling  through  this  country,  I 
could  not  but  be  struck  with  the  force  of  a  symbol.  Wherever 
the  hog  comes,  the  rattlesnake  disappears ;  the  omnivorous  trav 
eller,  safe  in  its  stupidity,  willingly  and  easily  makes  a  meal  of 
the  most  dangerous  of  reptiles,  and  one  which  the  Indian  looks  on 
with  a  mystic  awe.  Even  so  the  white  settler  pursues  the  In 
dian,  and  is  victor  in  the  chase.  But  I  shall  say  more  upon  the 
subject  by  and  by. 

While  we  were  here,  we  had  one  grand  thunder-storm,  which 
added  new  glory  to  the  scene. 

One  beautiful  feature  was  the  return  of  the  pigeons  every 
afternoon  to  their  home.  At  this  time  they  would  come  sweeping 
across  the  lawn,  positively  in  clouds,  and  with  a  swiftness  and 
softness  of  winged  motion  more  beautiful  than  anything  of  the 
kind  I  ever  knew.  Had  I  been  a  musician,  such  as  Mendelssohn, 
I  felt  that  I  could  have  improvised  a  music  quite  peculiar,  from 
the  sound  they  made,  which  should  have  indicated  all  the  beauty 
over  which  their  wings  bore  them.  I  will  here  insert  a  few  lines 
left  at  this  house  on  parting,  which  feebly  indicate  some  of  the 
features. 

THE  WESTERN  EDEN. 

Familiar  to  the  childish  mind  were  tales 

Of  rock-girt  isles  amid  a  desert  sea, 
Where  unexpected  stretch  the  flowery  vales 

To  soothe  the  shipwrecked  sailor's  misery. 
Fainting,  he  lay  upon  a  sandy  shore, 
And  fancied  that  all  hope  of  life  was  o'er ; 
But  let  him  patient  climb  the  frowning  wall, 
Within,  the  orange  glows  beneath  the  palui-tree  tall, 
And  all  that  Eden  boasted  waits  his  call. 


36  SUMMER    ON    THE    LAKES. 

Almost  these  tales  seem  realized  to-day, 
When  the  long  dulness  of  the  sultry  way, 
Where  "  independent "  settlers'  careless  cheer 
Made  us  indeed  feel  we  were  "  strangers  "  here, 
Is  cheered  by  sudden  sight  of  this  fair  spot, 
On  which  "  improvement "  yet  has  made  no  blot, 
But  Nature  all-astonished  stands,  to  find 
Her  plan  protected  by  the  human  mind. 

Blest  be  the  kindly  genius  of  the  scene ; 

The  river,  bending  in  unbroken  grace, 
The  stately  thickets,  with  their  pathways  green, 

Fair,  lonely  trees,  each  in  its  fittest  place  ; 
Those  thickets  haunted  by  the  deer  and  fawn ; 
Those  cloudlike  flights  of  birds  across  the  lawn ! 
The  gentlest  breezes  here  delight  to  blow, 
And  sun  and  shower  and  star  are  emulous  to  deck  the  show. 

Wondering,  as  Crusoe,  we  survey  the  land  ; 

Happier  than  Crusoe  we,  a  friendly  band. 

Blest  be  the  hand  that  reared  this  friendly  home, 

The  heart  and  mind  of  him  to  whom  we  owe 

Hours  of  pure  peace  such  as  few  mortals  know  ; 

May  he  find  such,  should  he  be  led  to  roam,  — 

Be  tended  by  such  ministering  sprites,  — 

Enjoy  such  gayly  childish  days,  such  hopeful  nights ! 

And  yet,  amid  the  goods  to  mortals  given, 

To  give  those  goods  again  is  most  like  heaven. 

Hazelwood,  Rock  River,  June  30,  1843. 

The  only  really  rustic  feature  was  of  the  many  coops  of  poultry 
near  the  house,  which  I  understood  it  to  be  one  of  the  chief 
pleasures  of  the  master  to  feed. 

Leaving  this  place,  we  proceeded  a  day's  journey  along  the 
beautiful  stream,  to  a  little  town  named  Oregon.  We  called  at  a 
cabin,  from  whose  door  looked  out  one  of  those  faces  which,  once 
seen,  are  never  forgotten  ;  young,  yet  touched  with  many  traces 
of  feeling,  not  only  possible,  but  endured ;  spirited,  too,  like  the 
gleam  of  a  finely  tempered  blade.  It  was  a  face  that  suggested 


OREGON.  37 

a  history,  and  many  histories,  but  whose  scene  would  have  been 
in  courts  and  camps.  At  this  moment  their  circles  are  dull  for 
want  of  that  life  which  is  waning  unexcited  in  this  solitary  recess. 

The  master  of  the  house  proposed  to  show  us  a  "  short  cut," 
by  which  we  might,  to  especial  advantage,  pursue  our  journey. 
This  proved  to  be  almost  perpendicular  down  a  hill,  studded  with 
young  trees  and  stumps.  From  these  he  proposed,  with  a  hospi 
tality  of  service  worthy  an  Oriental,  to  free  our  wheels  whenever 
they  should  get  entangled,  also  to  be  himself  the  drag,  to  prevent 
our  too  rapid  descent.  Such  generosity  deserved  trust ;  however, 
we  women  could  riot  be  persuaded  to  render  it.  We  got  out  and 
admired,  from  afar,  the  process.  Left  by  our  guide  and  prop, 
we  found  ourselves  in  a  wide  field,  where,  by  playful  quips  and 
turns,  an  endless  "  creek,"  seemed  to  divert  itself  with  our  at 
tempts  to  cross  it.  Failing  in  this,  the  next  best  was  to  whirl 
down  a  steep  bank,  which  feat  our  charioteer  performed  with  an 
air  not  unlike  that  of  Rhesus,  had  he  but  been  as  suitably  fur 
nished  with  chariot  and  steeds  ! 

At  last,  after  wasting  some  two  or  three  hours  on  the  "  short 
cut,"  we  got  out  by  following  an  Indian  trail,  —  Black  Hawk's! 
How  fair  the  scene  through  which  it  led  !  How  could  they  let 
themselves  be  conquered,  with  such  a  country  to  fight  for ! 

Afterwards,  in  the  wide  prairie,  we  sa\v  a  lively  picture  of 
nonchalance  (to  speak  in  the  fashion  of  dear  Ireland).  There, 
in  the  wide  sunny  field,  with  neither  tree  nor  umbrella  above  his 
head,  sat  a  pedler,  with  his  pack,  waiting  apparently  for  custom 
ers.  He  was  not  disappointed.  We  bought  what  hold,  in  regard 
to  the  human  world, -as  unmarked,  as  mysterious,  and  as  impor 
tant  an  existence,  as  the  infusoria  to  the  natural,  to  wit,  pins. 
This  incident  would  have  delighted  those  modern  sages,  who,  in 
imitation  of  the  sitting  philosophers  of  ancient  Ind,  prefer  silence 
to  speech,  waiting  to  going,  and  scornfully  smile,  in  answer  to  the 
motions  of  earnest  life, 

"  Of  itself  will  nothing  come, 
That  ye  must  still  be  seeking?  " 

However,  it  seemed  to  me  to-day,  as  formerly  on  these  sublime 
4 


33  SUMMER    ON    THE    LAKES. 

occasions,  obvious  that  nothing  would  come,  unless  something 
would  go ;  now,  if  we  had  been  as  sublimely  still  as  the  pedler, 
his  pins  would  have  tarried  in  the  pack,  and  his  pockets  sustained 
an  aching  void  of  pence. 

Passing  through  one  of  the  fine,  park -like  woods,  almost  clear 
from  underbrush  and  carpeted  with  thick  grasses  and  flowers, 
we  met  (for  it  was  Sunday)  a  little  congregation  just  returning 
from  their  service,  which  had  been  performed  in  a  rude  house  in 
its  midst.  It  had  a  sweet  and  peaceful  air,  as  if  such  words  and 
thoughts  were  very  dear  to  them.  The  parents  had  with  them  all 
their  little  children ;  but  we  saw  no  old  people  ;  that  charm  was 
wanting  which  exists  in  such  scenes  in  older  settlements,  of  see 
ing  the  silver  bent  in  reverence  beside  the  flaxen  head. 

At  Oregon,  the  beauty  of  the  scene  was  of  even  a  more  sump 
tuous  character  than  at  our  former  "  stopping-place. "  Here 
swelled  the  river  in  its  boldest  course,  interspersed  by  halcyon 
isles  on  which  Nature  had  lavished  all  her  prodigality  in  tree,  vine, 
and  flower,  banked  by  noble  bluffs,  three  hundred  feet  high,  their 
sharp  ridges  as  exquisitely  definite  as  the  edge  of  a  shell  ;  their 
summits  adorned  with  those  same  beautiful  trees,  and  with  but 
tresses  of  rich  rock,  crested  with  old  hemlocks,  which  wore  a 
touching  and  antique  grace  amid  the  softer  and  more  luxuriant 
vegetation.  Lofty  natural  mounds  rose  amidst  the  rest,  with  the 
same  lovely  and  sweeping  outline,  showing  everywhere  the  plastic 
power  of  water,  —  water,  mother  of  beauty,  —  which,  by  its  sweet 
and  eager  flow,  had  left  such  lineaments  as  human  genius  never 
dreamt  of. 

Not  far  from  the  river  was  a  high  crag,  called  the  Pine  Rock, 
which  looks  out,  as  our  guide  observed,  like  a  helmet  above  the 
brow  of  the  country.  It  seems  as  if  the  water  left  here  and  there 
a  vestige  of  forms  and  materials  that  preceded  its  course,  just  to 
set  off  its  new  and  richer  designs. 

The  aspect  of  this  country  was  to  me  enchanting,  beyond  any 
I  have  ever  seen,  from  its  fulness  of  expression,  its  bold  and  im 
passioned  sweetness.  Here  the  flood  of  emotion  has  passed  over 
and  marked  everywhere  its  course  by  a  smile.  The  fragments  of 


ANCIENT    INDIAN    VILLAGE.  39 

rock  touch  it  with  a  wildness  and  liberality  which  give  just  the 
needed  relief.  I  should  never  be  tired  here,  though  I  have  else 
where  seen  country  of  more  secret  and  alluring  charms,  better 
calculated  to  stimulate  and  suggest.  Here  the  eye  and  heart  are 
filled. 

How  happy  the  Indians  must  have  been  here  !  It  is  not  long 
since  they  were  driven  away,  and  the  ground,  above  and  below, 
is  full  of  their  traces. 

"  The  earth  is  full  of  men." 

You  have  only  to  turn  up  the  sod  to  find  arrowheads  and  In 
dian  pottery.  On  an  island,  belonging  to  our  host,  and  nearly 
opposite  his  house,  they  loved  to  stay,  and,  no  doubt,  enjoyed  its 
lavish  beauty  as  much  as  the  myriad  wild  pigeons  that  now  haunt 
its  flower-filled  shades.  Here  are  still  the  marks  of  their  toma 
hawks,  the  troughs  in  which  they  prepared  their  corn,  their 
caches. 

A  little  way  down  the  river  is  the  site  of  an  ancient  Indian  vil 
lage,  with  its  regularly  arranged  mounds.  As  usual,  they  had 
chosen  with  the  finest  taste.  When  we  went  there,  it  was  one 
of  those  soft,  shadowy  afternoons  when  Nature  seems  ready  to 
weep,  not  from  grief,  but  from  an  overfull  heart.  Two  prattling, 
lovely  little  girls,  and  an  African  boy,  with  glittering  eye  and 
ready  grin,  made  our  party  gay  ;  but  all  were  still  as  we  entered 
the  little  inlet  and  trod  those  flowery  paths.  They  may  blacken 
Indian  life  as  they  will,  talk  of  its  dirt,  its  brutality,  I  will  ever 
believe  that  the  men  who  chose  that  dwelling-place  were  able  to 
feel  emotions  of  noble  happiness  as  they  returned  to  it,  and  so 
were  the  women  that  received  them.  Neither  were  the  children 
sad  or  dull,  who  lived  so  familiarly  with  the  deer  and  the  birds, 
and  swam  that  clear  wave  in  the  shadow  of  the  Seven  Sisters. 
The  whole  scene  suggested  to  me  a  Greek  splendor,  a  Greek 
sweetness,  and  I  can  believe  that  an  Indian  brave,  accustomed  to 
ramble  in  such  paths,  and  be  bathed  by  such  sunbeams,  might  be 
mistaken  for  Apollo,  as  Apollo  was  for  him  by  West.  Two  of 
the  boldest  bluffs  are  called  the  Deer's  Walk,  (not  because  deer 
do  not  walk  there,)  and  the  Eagle's  Nest.  The  latter  I  visited 


40  SUMMER    ON    THE    LAKES. 

one  glorious  morning  ;  it  was  that  of  the  fourth  of  July,  and  cer 
tainly  I  think  I  had  never  felt  so  happy  that  I  was  born  in  Amer 
ica.  Woe  to  all  country  folks  that  never  saw  this  spot,  never 
swept  an  enraptured  gaze  over  the  prospect  that  stretched  be 
neath.  I  do  believe  Rome  and  Florence  are  suburbs  compared 
to  this  capital  of  Nature's  art. 

The  bluff  was  decked  with  great  bunches  of  a  scarlet  variety 
of  the  milkweed,  like  cut  coral,  and  all  starred  with  a  mysterious- 
looking  dark  flower,  whose  cup  rose  lonely  on  a  tall  stem.  This 
had,  for  two  or  three  days,  disputed  the  ground  with  the  lupine 
and  phlox.  My  companions  disliked,  I  liked  it. 

Here  I  thought  of,  or  rather  saw,  what  the  Greek  expresses 
under  the  form  of  Jove's  darling,  Ganymede,  and  the  following 
stanzas  took  form. 

GANYMEDE  TO  HIS  EAGLE. 

SUGGESTED    BY   A   WORK   OF   THORWALDSEN'S. 

Composed  on  the  height  called  the  Eagle's  Nest,  Oregon,  Rock  River, 
July  4th,  1843. 

Upon  the  rocky  mountain  stood  the  boy, 

A  goblet  of  pure  water  in  his  hand  ; 
His  face  and  form  spoke  him  one  made  for  joy, 

A  willing  servant  to  sweet  love's  command, 
But  a  strange  pain  was  written  on  his  brow, 

And  thrilled  throughout  his  silver  accents  now. 

"  My  bird,"  he  cries,  "  my  destined  brother  friend, 

O  whither  fleets  to-day  thy  wayward  flight  ? 
Hast  thou  forgotten  that  I  here  attend, 

From  the  full  noon  until  this  sad  twilight  ? 
A  hundred  times,  at  least,  from  the  clear  spring, 

Since  the  full  noon  o'er  hill  and  valley  glowed, 
I've  filled  the  vase  which  our  Olympian  king 

Upon  my  care  for  thy  sole  use  bestowed ; 
That,  at  the  moment  when  thou  shouldst  descend, 
A  pure  refreshment  might  thy  thirst  attend. 


GANYMEDE    TO    ITTS    EAGLE.  41 

"  Hast  thou  forgotten  earth,  forgotten  me, 

Thy  fellow-bondsman  in  a  royal  cause, 
Who,  from  the  sadness  of  infinity, 

Only  with  thee  can  know  that  peaceful  pause 
In  which  we  catch  the  flowing  strain  of  love, 
Which  binds  our  dim  fates  to  the  throne  of  Jove  ? 

"  Before  I  saw  thee,  I  was  like  the  May, 

Longing  for  summer  that  must  mar  its  bloom, 
Or  like  the  morning  star  that  calls  the  day, 

Whose  glories  to  its  promise  are  the  tomb ; 
And  as  the  eager  fountain  rises  higher 

To  throw  itself  more  strongly  back  to  earth, 
Still,  as  more  sweet  and  full  rose  my  desire, 

More  fondly  it  reverted  to  its  birth, 
For  what  the  rosebud  seeks  tells  not  the  rose, 
The  meaning  that  the  boy  foretold  the  man  cannot  disclose. 

"  I  was  all  Spring,  for  in  my  being  dwelt 

Eternal  youth,  where  flowers  are  the  fruit ; 
Full  feeling  was  the  thought  of  what  was  felt, 

Its  music  was  the  meaning  of  the  lute  ; 
But  heaven  and  earth  such  life  will  still  deny, 
For  earth,  divorced  from  heaven,  still  asks  the  question  Why? 

"  Upon  the  highest  mountains  my  young  feet 

Ached,  that  no  pinions  from  their  lightness  grew, 
My  starlike  eyes  the  stars  would  fondly  greet, 

Yet  win  no  greeting  from  the  circling  blue  ; 
Fair,  self-subsistent  each  in  its  own  sphere, 

They  had  no  care  that  there  was  none  for  me  j 
Alike  to  them  that  I  was  far  or  near, 

Alike  to  them  time  and  eternity. 

"  But  from  the  violet  of  lower  air 

Sometimes  an  answer  to  my  wishing  came ; 
Those  lightning-births  my  nature  seemed  to  share, 

They  told  the  secrets  of  its  fiery  frame, 
The  sudden  messengers  of  hate  and  love, 
The  thunderbolts  that  arm  the  hand  of  Jove, 
And  strike  sometimes  the  sacred  spire,  and  strike  the  sacred  fn-ove. 
4* 


42  SUMMER    ON    THE    LAKES. 

"  Come  in  a  moment,  in  a  moment  gone, 

They  answered  me,  then  left  me  still  more  lone  ; 

They  told  me  that  the  thought  which  ruled  the  world 

As  yet  no  sail  upon  its  course  had  furled, 

That  the  creation  was  but  just  begun, 

New  leaves  still  leaving  from  the  primal  one, 

But  spoke  not  of  the  goal  to  which  my  rapid  wheels  would  run. 

"  Still,  still  my  eyes,  though  tearfully,  I  strained 
To  the  far  future  which  my  heart  contained, 
And  no  dull  doubt  my  proper  hope  profaned. 

"  At  last,  O  bliss  !  thy  living  form  I  spied, 

Then  a  mere  speck  upon  a  distant  sky ; 
Yet  my  keen  glance  discerned  its  noble  pride, 

And  the  full  answer  of  that  sun-filled  eye  ; 
I  knew  it  was  the  wing  that  must  upbear 
My  earthlier  form  into  the  realms  of  air. 

"  Thou  knowest  how  we  gained  that  beauteous  height, 
Where  dwells  the  monarch  of  the  sons  of  light ; 
Thou  knowest  he  declared  us  two  to  be 
The  chosen  servants  of  his  ministry, 
Thou  as  his  messenger,  a  sacred  sign 
Of  conquest,  or,  with  omen  more  benign, 
To  give  its  due  weight  to  the  righteous  cause, 
To  express  the  verdict  of  Olympian  laws. 

"  And  I  to  wait  upon  the  lonely  spring, 

Which  slakes  the  thirst  of  bards  to  whom  't  is  given 

The  destined  dues  of  hopes  divine  to  sing, 

And  weave  the  needed  chain  to  bind  to  heaven. 

Only  from  such  could  be  obtained  a  draught 

For  him  who  in  his  early  home  from  Jove's  own  cup  has  quailed. 

"  To  wait,  to  wait,  but  not  to  wait  too  long, 

Till  heavy  grows  the  burden  of  a  song ; 

O  bjird  !  too  long  hast  thou  been  gone  to-day, 

My  feet  are  weary  of  their  frequent  way, 

The  spell  that  opes  the  spring  my  tongue  no  more  can  say. 


GANYMEDE    TO    HIS    EAGLE.  43 

"  If  soon  thou  com'st  not,  night  will  fall  around, 
My  head  with  a  sad  slumber  will  be  bound, 
And  the  pure  draught  be  spilt  upon  the  ground. 

"  Remember  that  I  am  not  yet  divine, 
Long  years  of  service  to  the  fatal  Nine 
Are  yet  to  make  a  Delphian  vigor  mine. 

"  O,  make  them  not  too  hard,  thou  bird  of  Jove ! 
Answer  the  stripling's  hope,  confirm  his  love, 
Receive  the  service  in  which  he  delights, 
And  bear  him  often  to  the  serene  heights, 
Where  hands  that  were  so  prompt  in  serving  thee 
Shall  be  allowed  the  highest  ministry, 
And  Rapture  live  with  bright  Fidelity." 

The  afternoon  was  spent  in  a  very  different  manner.  The 
family  whose  guests  we  were  possessed  a  gay  and  graceful  hos 
pitality  that  gave  zest  to  each  moment.  They  possessed  that 
rare  politeness  which,  while  fertile  in  pleasant  expedients  to  vary 
the  enjoyment  of  a  friend,  leaves  him  perfectly  free  the  moment 
he  wishes  to  be  so.  With  such  hosts,  pleasure  may  be  combined 
with  repose.  They  lived  on  the  bank  opposite  the  town,  and,  as 
their  house  was  full,  we  slept  in  the  town,  and  passed  three  days 
with  them,  passing  to  and  fro  morning  and  evening  in  their  boats. 
To  one  of  these,  called  the  Fairy,  in  which  a  sweet  little  daugh 
ter  of  the  house  moved  about  lighter  than  any  Scotch  Ellen  ever 
sung,  I  should  indite  a  poem,  if  I  had  not  been  guilty  of  rhyme 
on  this  very  page.  At  morning  this  boating  was  very  pleasant ; 
at  evening,  I  confess,  I  was  generally  too  tired  with  the  excite 
ments  of  the  day  to  think  it  so. 

The  house  —  a  double  log-cabin  —  was,  to  my  eye,  the  mod 
el  of  a  Western  villa.  Nature  had  laid  out  before  it  grounds 
which  could  not  be  improved.  Within,  female  taste  had  veiled 
every  rudeness,  availed  itself  of  every  sylvan  grace. 

In  this  charming  abode  what  laughter,  what  sweet  thoughts,  what 
pleasing  fancies,  did  we  not  enjoy  !  May  such  never  desert  those 
who  reared  it,  and  made  us  so  kindly  welcome  to  all  its  pleasures ! 

Fragments  of  city  life  were  dexterously  crumbled  into  the  dish 


44  SUMMER    ON    THE    LAKES. 

prepared  for  general  entertainment.  Ice-creams  followed  the 
dinner,  which  was  drawn  by  the  gentlemen  from  the  river,  and 
music  and  fireworks  wound  up  the  evening  of  days  spent  on  the 
Eagle's  Nest,  Now  they  had  prepared  a  little  fleet  to  pass  over 
to  the  Fourth  of  July  celebration,  which  some  queer  drumming 
and  fifing,  from  the  opposite  bank,  had  announced  to  be  "on 
hand." 

We  found  the  free  and  independent  citizens  there  collected  be 
neath  the  trees,  among  whom  many  a  round  Irish  visage  dimpled 
at  the  usual  puffs  of  "  Ameriky." 

The  orator  was  a  New-Englander,  and  the  speech  smacked 
loudly  of  Boston,  but  was  received  with  much  applause  and  fol 
lowed  by  a  plentiful  dinner,  provided  by  and  for  the  Sovereign 
People,  to  which  Hail  Columbia  served  as  grace. 

Returning,  the  gay  flotilla  cheered  the  little  flag  which  the  chil 
dren  had  raised  from  a  log-cabin,  prettier  than  any  president  ever 
saw,  and  drank  the  health  of  our  country  and  all  mankind,  with 
a  clear  conscience. 

Dance  and  song  wound  up  the  day.  I  know  not  when  the 
mere  local  habitation  has  seemed  to  me  to  afford  so  fair  a  chance 
of  happiness  as  this.  To  a  person  of  unspoiled  tastes,  the  beauty 
alone  would  afford  stimulus  enough.  But  with  it  would  be  nat 
urally  associated  all  kinds  of  wild  sports,  experiments,  and  the 
studies  of  natural  history.  In  these  regards,  the  poet,  the  sports 
man,  the  naturalist,  would  alike  rejoice  in  this  wide  range  of  un 
touched  loveliness. 

Then,  with  a  very  little  money,  a  ducal  estate  may  be  pur 
chased,  and  by  a  very  little  more,  and  moderate  labor,  a  family 
be  maintained  upon  it  with  raiment,  food,  and  shelter.  The  luxu 
rious  and  minute  comforts  of  a  city  life  are  not  yet  to  be  had 
without  effort  disproportionate  to  their  value.  But,  where  there 
is  so  great  a  counterpoise,  cannot  these  be  given  up  once  for  all  ? 
If  the  houses  are  imperfectly  built,  they  can  afford  immense  fires 
and  plenty  of  covering;  if  they  are  small,  who  cares, — with 
such  fields  to  roam  in  ?  in  winter,  it  may  be  borne  ;  in  summer, 
is  of  no  consequence.  With  plenty  of  fish,  and  game,  and  wheat, 


OREGON.  45 

can  they  not  dispense  with  a  baker  to  bring  "  muffins  hot"  every 
morning  to  the  door  for  their  breakfast  ? 

A  man  need  not  here  take  a  small  slice  from  the  landscape, 
and  fence  it  in  from  the  obtrusions  of  an  uncongenial  neighbor, 
and  there  cut  down  his  fancies  to  miniature  improvements  which 
a  chicken  could  run  over  in  ten  minutes.  He  may  have  water 
and  wood  and  land  enough,  to  dread  no  incursions  on  his  prospect 
from  some  chance  Vandal  that  may  enter  his  neighborhood.  He 
need  not  painfully  economize  and  manage  how  he  may  use  it  all ; 
he  can  afford  to  leave  some  of  it  wild,  and  to  carry  out  his  own 
plans  without  obliterating  those  of  Nature. 

Here,  whole  families  might  live  together,  if  they  would.  The 
sons  might  return  from  their  pilgrimages  to  settle  near  the  parent 
hearth  ;  the  daughters  might  find  room  near  their  mother.  Those 
painful  separations,  which  already  desecrate  and  desolate  the  At 
lantic  coast,  are  not  enforced  here  by  the  stern  need  of  seeking 
bread  ;  and  where  they  are  voluntary,  it  is  no  matter.  To  me, 
too,  used  to  the  feelings  which  haunt  a  society  of  struggling  men, 
it  wras  delightful  to  look  upon  a  scene  where  Nature  still  wore  her 
motherly  smile,  and  seemed  to  promise  room,  not  only  for  those 
favored  or  cursed  with  the  qualities  best  adapting  for  the  strifes 
of  competition,  but  for  the  delicate,  the  thoughtful,  even  the  indo 
lent  or  eccentric.  She  did  not  say,  Fight  or  starve ;  nor  even, 
Work  or  cease  to  exist ;  but,  merely  showing  that  the  apple  was 
a  finer  fruit  than  the  wild  crab,  gave  both  room  to  grow  in  the 
garden. 

A  pleasant  society  is  formed  of  the  families  who  live  along  the 
banks  of  this  stream  upon  farms.  They  are  from  various  parts 
of  the  world,  and  have  much  to  communicate  to  one  another. 
Many  have  cultivated  minds  and  refined  manners,  all  a  varied 
experience,  while  they  have  in  common  the  interests  of  a  new 
country  and  a  new  life.  They  must  traverse  some  space  to  get 
at  one  another,  but  the  journey  is  through  scenes  that  make  it  a 
separate  pleasure.  They  must  bear  inconveniences  to  stay  in  one 
another's  houses  ;  but  these,  to  the  well-disposed,  are  only  a  source 
of  amusement  and  adventure. 


46  SUMMER    ON    THE    LAKES. 

The  great  drawback  upon  the  lives  of  these  settlers,  at  present, 
is  the  unfitness  of  the  women  for  their  new  lot.  It  has  generally 
been  the  choice  of  the  men,  and  the  women  follow,  as  women 
will,  doing  their  best  for  affection's  sake,  but  too  often  in  heart- 
sickness,  and  weariness.  Beside,  it  frequently  not  being  a  choice 
or  conviction  of  their  own  minds  that  it  is  best  to  be  here,  their 
part  is  the  hardest,  and  they  are  least  fitted  for  it.  The  men 
can  find  assistance  in  field  labor,  and  recreation  with  the  gun  and 
fishing-rod.  Their  bodily  strength  is  greater,  and  enables  them 
to  bear  and  enjoy  both  these  forms  of  life. 

The  women  can  rarely  find  any  aid  in  domestic  labor.  All  its 
various  and  careful  tasks  must  often  be  performed,  sick,  or  well, 
by  the  mother  and  daughters,  to  whom  a  city  education  has  im 
parted  neither  the  strength  nor  skill  now  demanded. 

The  wives  of  the  poorer  settlers,  having  more  hard  work  to  do 
than  before,  very  frequently  become  slatterns  ;  but  the  ladies, 
accustomed  to  a  refined  neatness,  feel  that  they  cannot  degrade 
themselves  by  its  absence,  and  struggle  under  every  disadvantage 
to  keep  up  the  necessary  routine  of  small  arrangements. 

With  all  these  disadvantages  for  work,  their  resources  for  pleas 
ure  are  fewer.  When  they  can  leave  the  housework,  they  have 
not  learnt  to  ride,  to  drive,  to  row,  alone.  Their  culture  has  too 
generally  been  that  given  to  women  to  make  them  "  the  orna 
ments  of  society."  They  can  dance,  but  not  draw ;  talk  French, 
but  know  nothing  of  the  language  of  flowers ;  neither  in  child 
hood  were  allowed  to  cultivate  them,  lest  they  should  tan  their 
complexions.  Accustomed  to  the  pavement  of  Broadway,,  they 
dare  not  tread  the  wild-wood  paths  for  fear  of  rattlesnakes ! 

Seeing  much  of  this  joylessness,  and  inaptitude,  both  of  body 
and  mind,  for  a  lot  which  would  be  full  of  blessings  for  those 
prepared  for  it,  we  could  not  but  look  with  deep  interest  on  the 
little  girls,  and  hope  they  would  grow  up  with  the  strength  of 
body,  dexterity,  simple  tastes,  and  resources  that  would  fit  them 
to  enjoy  and  refine  the  Western  farmer's  life. 

But  they  have  a  great  deal  to  war  with  in  the  habits  of 
thought  acquired  by  their  mothers  from  their  own  early  life. 


WOMEN    IN    THE    WEST.  47 

Everywhere  the  fatal  spirit  of  imitation,  of  reference  to  European 
standards,  penetrates,  and  threatens  to  blight  whatever  of  original 
growth  might  adorn  the  soil. 

If  the  little  girls  grow  up  strong,  resolute,  able  to  exert  their 
faculties,  their  mothers  mourn  over  their  want  of  fashionable 
delicacy.  Are  they  gay,  enterprising,  ready  to  fly  about  in  the 
various  ways  that  teach  them  so  much,  these  ladies  lament  that 
"  they  cannot  go  to  school,  where  they  might  learn  to  be  quiet." 
They  lament  the  want  of  "  education  "  for  their  daughters,  as  if 
the  thousand  needs  which  call  out  their  young  energies,  and  the 
language  of  nature  around,  yielded  no  education. 

Their  grand  ambition  for  their  children  is  to  send  them  to 
school  in  some  Eastern  city,  the  measure  most  likely  to  make 
them  useless  and  unhappy  at  home.  I  earnestly  hope  that,  ere 
long,  the  existence  of  good  schools  near  themselves,  planned 
by  persons  of  sufficient  thought  to  meet  the  wants  of  the  place 
and  time,  instead  of  copying  New  York  or  Boston,  will  cor 
rect  this  mania.  Instruction  the  children  want  to  enable  them 
to  profit  by  the  great  natural  advantages  of  their  position ;  but 
methods  copied  from  the  education  of  some  English  Lady  Augusta 
are  as  ill  suited  to  the  daughter  of  an  Illinois  farmer,  as  satin 
shoes  to  climb  the  Indian  mounds.  An  elegance  she  would 
diffuse  around  her,  if  her  mind  were  opened  to  appreciate  ele 
gance  ;  it  might  be  of  a  kind  new,  original,  enchanting,  as  differ 
ent  from  that  of  the  city  belle  as  that  of  the  prairie  torch-flower 
from  the  shop-worn  article  that  touches  the  cheek  of  that  lady 
within  her  bonnet. 

To  a  girl  really  skilled  to  make  home  beautiful  and  comfort 
able,  with  bodily  strength  to  enjoy  plenty  of  exercise,  the  woods, 
the  streams,  a  few  studies,  music,  and  the  sincere  and  familiar 
intercourse,  far  more  easily  to  be  met  with  here  than  elsewhere, 
would  afford  happiness  enough.  Her  eyes  would  not  grow  dim, 
nor  her  cheeks  sunken,  in  the  absence  of  parties,  morning  visits, 
and  milliners'  shops. 

As  to  music,  I  wish  I  could  see  in  such  places  the  guitar  rather 
than  the  piano,  and  good  vocal  more  than  instrumental  music. 


48  SUMMER    ON    THE    LAKES. 

The  piano  many  carry  with  them,  because  it  is  the  fashionable 
instrument  in  the  Eastern  cities.  Even  there,  it  is  so  merely 
from  the  habit  of  imitating  Europe,  for  not  one  in  a  thousand  is 
willing  to  give  the  labor  requisite  to  insure  any  valuable  use  of 
the  instrument. 

But  out  here,  where  the  ladies  have  so  much  less  leisure,  it  is 
still  less  desirable.  Add  to  this,  they  never  know  how  to  tune 
their  own  instruments,  and  as  persons  seldom  visit  them  who  can 
do  so,  these  pianos  are  constantly  out  of  tune,  and  would  spoil 
the  ear  of  one  who  began  by  having  any. 

The  guitar,  or  some  portable  instrument  which  requires  less 
practice,  and  could  be  kept  in  tune  by  themselves,  would  be  far 
more  desirable  for  most  of  these  ladies.  It  would  give  all  they 
want  as  a  household  companion  to  fill  up  the  gaps  of  life  with  a 
pleasant  stimulus  or  solace,  and  be  sufficient  accompaniment  to 
the  voice  in  social  meetings. 

Singing  in  parts  is  the  most  delightful  family  amusement,  and 
those  who  are  constantly  together  can  learn  to  sing  in  perfect 
accord.  All  the  practice  it  needs,  after  some  good  elementary 
instruction,  is  such  as  meetings  by  summer  twilight  and  evening 
firelight  naturally  suggest.  And  as  music  is  a  universal  lan 
guage,  we  cannot  but  think  a  fine  Italian  duet  would  be  as  much 
at  home  in  the  log  cabin  as  one  of  Mrs.  Gore's  novels. 

The  6th  of  July  we  left  this  beautiful  place.  It  was  one  of 
those  rich  days  of  bright  sunlight,  varied  by  the  purple  shadows 
of  large,  sweeping  clouds.  Many  a  backward  look  we  cast,  and 
left  the  heart  behind. 

Our  journey  to-day  was  no  less  delightful  than  before,  still  all 
new,  boundless,  limitless.  Kinmont  says,  that  limits  are  sacred ; 
that  the  Greeks  were  in  the  right  to  worship  a  god  of  limits.  I 
say,  that  what  is  limitless  is  alone  divine,  that  there  was  neither 
wall  nor  road  in  Eden,  that  those  who  walked  there  lost  and 
found  their  way  just  as  we  did,  and  that  all  the  gain  from  the 
Fall  was  that  we  had  a  wagon  to  ride  in.  I  do  not  think,  either, 
that  even  the  horses  doubted  whether  this  last  was  any  advantage. 

Everywhere  the  rattlesnake-weed  grows   in   profusion.     The 


KISHWAUKIE.  49 

antidote   survives   the   bane.      Soon   the    coarser   plantain,   the 
"  white  man's  footstep,"  shall  take  its  place. 

We  saw  also  the  compass-plant,  and  the  Western  tea-plant.  Of 
some  of  the  brightest  flowers  an  Indian  girl  afterwards  told  me 
the  medicinal  virtues.  I  doubt  not  those  students  of  the  soil 
knew  a  use  to  every  fair  emblem,  on  which  we  could  only  look 
to  admire  its  hues  and  shape. 

After  noon  we  were  ferried  by  a  girl  (unfortunately  not  of  the 
most  picturesque  appearance)  across  the  Kishwaukie,  the  most 
graceful  of  streams,  and  on  whose  bosom  rested  many  full-blown 
water-lilies, — twice  as  large  as  any  of  ours.  I  was  told  that,  en 
revanche,  they  were  scentless,  but  I  still  regret  that  I  could  not 
get  at  one  of  them  to  try.  Query,  did  the  lilied  fragrance  which, 
in  the  miraculous  times,  accompanied  visions  of  saints  and  angels, 
proceed  from  water  or  garden  lilies  ? 

Kishwaukie  is,  according  to  tradition,  the  scene  of  a  famous 
battle,  and  its  many  grassy  mounds  contain  the  bones  of  the  val 
iant.  On  these  waved  thickly  the  mysterious  purple  flower,  of 
which  I  have  spoken  before.  I  think  it  springs  from  the  blood  of 
the  Indians,  as  the  hyacinth  did  from  that  of  Apollo's  darling. 

The  ladies  of  our  host's  family  at  Oregon,  when  they  first  went 
there,  after  all  the  pains  and  plagues  of  building  and  settling, 
found  their  first  pastime  in  opening  one  of  these  mounds,  in  which 
they  found,  I  think,  three  of  the  departed,  seated  in  the  Indian 
fashion. 

One  of  these  same  ladies,  as  she  was  making  bread  one  winter 
morning,  saw  from  the  window  a  deer  directly  before  the  house. 
She  ran  out,  with  her  hands  covered  with  dough,  calling  the  oth 
ers,  and  they  caught  him  bodily  before  he  had  time  to  escape. 

Here  (at  Kiskwaukie)  we  received  a  visit  from  a  ragged  and 
barefooted,  but  bright-eyed  gentleman,  who  seemed  to  be  the  intel 
lectual  loafer,  the  walking  Will's  coffee-house,  of  the  place.  He 
told  us  many  charming  snake-stories  ;  among  others,  of  himself 
having  seen  seventeen  young  ones  re-enter  the  mother  snake,  on 
the  approach  of  a  visitor. 

This  night  we  reached  Belvidere,  a  flourishing  town  in  Boon 
5 


50  SUMMER    ON    THE    LAKES. 

County,  where  was  the  tomb,  now  despoiled,  of  Big  Thunder.  In 
this  later  day  we  felt  happy  to  find  a  really  good  hotel. 

From  this  place,  by  two  days  of  very  leisurely  and  devious 
journeying,  we  reached  Chicago,  and  thus  ended  a  journey,  which 
one  at  least  of  the  party  might  have  wished  unending. 

I  have  not  been  particularly  anxious  to  give  the  geography  of 
the  scene,  inasmuch  as  it  seemed  to  me  no  route,  nor  series  of 
stations,  but  a  garden  interspersed  with  cottages,  groves,  and 
flowery  lawns,  through  which  a  stately  river  ran.  I  had  no 
guide-book,  kept  no  diary,  do  not  know  how  many  miles  we 
travelled  each  day,  nor  how  many  in  all.  What  I  got  from  the 
journey  was  the  poetic  impression  of  the  country  at  large ;  it  is 
all  I  have  aimed  to  communicate. 

The  narrative  might  have  been  made  much  more  interesting, 
as  life  was  at  the  time,  by  many  piquant  anecdotes  and  tales 
drawn  from  private  life.  But  here  courtesy  restrains  the  pen, 
for  I  know  those  who  received  the  stranger  with  such  frank 
kindness  would  feel  ill  requited  by  its  becoming  the  means  of 
fixing  many  spy-glasses,  even  though  the  scrutiny  might  be  one 
of  admiring  interest,  upon  their  private  homes. 

For  many  of  these  anecdotes,  too,  I  was  indebted  to  a  friend, 
whose  property  they  more  lawfully  are.  This  friend  was  one  of 
those  rare  beings  who  are  equally  at  home  in  nature  and  with  man. 
He  knew  a  tale  of  all  that  ran  and  swam  and  flew,  or  only 
grew,  possessing  that  extensive  familiarity  with  things  which 
shows  equal  sweetness  of  sympathy  and  playful  penetration. 
Most  refreshing  to  me  was  his  unstudied  lore,  the  unwritten  po 
etry  which  common  life  presents  to  a  strong  and  gentle  mind.  It 
was  a  great  contrast  to  the  subtilties  of  analysis,  the  philosophic 
strainings  of  which  I  had  seen  too  much.  But  I  will  not  attempt  to 
transplant  it.  May  it  profit  others  as  it  did  me  in  the  region  where 
it  was  born,  where  it  belongs. 

The  evening  of  our  return  to  Chicago,  the  sunset  was  of  a 
splendor  and  calmness  beyond  any  we  saw  at  the  West.  The 
twilight  that  succeeded  was  equally  beautiful ;  soft,  pathetic,  but 
just  so  calm.  When  afterwards  I  learned  this  was  the  evening 


FAREWELL    TO    ROCK    RIVER    VALLEY.  51 

of  Allston's  death,  it  seemed  to  me  as  if  this  glorious  pageant  was 
not  without  connection  with  that  event ;  at  least,  it  inspired  sim 
ilar  emotions,  —  a  heavenly  gate  closing  a  path  adorned  with 
shows  well  worthy  Paradise. 

FAREWELL  TO  ROCK  RIVER  VALLEY. 

Farewell,  ye  soft  and  sumptuous  solitudes  ! 

Ye  fairy  distances,  ye  lordly  woods, 

Haunted  by  paths  like  those  that  Poussin  knew, 

When  after  his  all  gazers'  eyes  he  drew ; 

T  go,  —  and  if  I  never  more  may  steep 

An  eager  heart  in  your  enchantments  deep, 

Yet  ever  to  itself  that  heart  may  say, 

Be  not  exacting;  thou  hast  lived  one  day, — 

Hast  looked  on  that  which  matches  with  thy  inood, 

Impassioned  sweetness  of  full  being's  flood, 

Where  nothing  checked  the  bold  yet  gentle  wave, 

Where  naught  repelled  the  lavish  love  that  gave. 

A  tender  blessing  lingers  o'er  the  scene, 

Like  some  young  mother's  thought,  fond,  yet  serene, 

And  through  its  life  new-born  our  lives  have  been. 

Once  more  farewell,  —  a  sad,  a  sweet  farewell ; 

And,  if  I  never  must  behold  you  more, 

Jn  other  worlds  I  will  not  cease  to  tell 

The  rosary  I  here  have  numbered  o'er ; 

And  bright-haired  Hope  will  lend  a  gladdened  ear, 

And  Love  will  free  him  from  the  grasp  of  Fear, 

And  Gorgon  critics,  while  the  tale  they  hear, 

Shall  dew  their  stony  glances  with  a  tear, 

If  I  but  catch  one  echo  from  your  spell :  — 

And  so  farewell,  —  a  grateful,  sad  farewell  1 


CHAPTER    IV. 

A    SHORT    CHAPTER. CHICAGO    AGAIN. MORRIS    BIRKBECK. 

CHICAGO  had  become  interesting  to  me  now,  that  I  knew  it 
as  the  portal  to  so  fair  a  scene.  I  had  become  interested  in  the 
land,  in  the  people,  and  looked  sorrowfully  on  the  lake  on  which 
I  must  soon  embark,  to  leave  behind  what  I  had  just  begun  to 
enjoy. 

Now  was  the  time  to  see  the  lake.  The  July  moon  was  near 
its  full,  and  night  after  night  it  rose  in  a  cloudless  sky  above  this 
majestic  sea.  The  heat  was  excessive,  so  that  there  was  no  en 
joyment  of  life,  except  iri  the  night ;  but  then  the  air  was  of  that 
delicious  temperature  worthy  of  orange-groves.  However,  they 
were  not  wanted ;  —  nothing  was,  as  that  full  light  fell  on  the 
faintly  rippling  waters,  which  then  seemed  boundless. 

The  most  picturesque  objects  to  be  seen  from  Chicago  on  the 
inland  side  were  the  lines  of  Hoosier  wagons.  These  rude  farm 
ers,  the  large  first  product  of  the  soil,  travel  leisurely  along, 
sleeping  in  their  wagons  by  night,  eating  only  what  they  bring 
with  them.  In  the  town  they  observe  the  same  plan,  and  trouble 
no  luxurious  hotel  for  board  and  lodging.  Here  they  look  like 
foreign  peasantry,  and  contrast  well  with  the  many  Germans, 
Dutch,  and  Irish.  In  the  country  it  is  very  pretty  to  see  them 
prepared  to  "  camp  out "  at  night,  their  horses  taken  out  of  har 
ness,  and  they  lounging  under  the  trees,  enjoying  the  evening 
meal. 

On  the  lake-side  it  is  fine  to  see  the  great  boats  come  panting 
in  from  their  rapid  and  marvellous  journey.  Especially  at  night 
the  motion  of  their  lights  is  very  majestic. 


PHILIP    VAN    ARTEVKLDE.  53 

When  the  favorite  boats,  the  Great  Western  and  Illinois,  are 
going  out,  the  town  is  thronged  with  people  from  the  South  and 
farther  West,  to  go  in  them.  These  moonlight  nights  I  would 
hear  the  French  rippling  and  fluttering  familiarly  amid  the  rude 
ups  and  downs  of  the  Hoosier  dialect. 

At  the  hotel  table  were  daily  to  be  seen  new  faces,  and  new 
stories  to  be  learned.  And  any  one  who  has  a  large  acquaintance 
may  be  pretty  sure  of  meeting  some  of  them  here  in  the  course  of 
a  few  days. 

At  Chicago  I  read  again  Philip  Van  Artevelde,  and  certain' 
passages  in  it  will  always  be  in  my  mind  associated  with  the  deep 
sound  of  the  lake,  as  heard  in  the  night.  I  used  to  read  a  short 
time  at  night,  and  then  open  the  blind  to  look  out.  The  moon 
would  be  full  upon  the  lake,  and  the  calm  breath,  pure  light,  and 
the  deep  voice  harmonized  well  with  the  thought  of  the  Flemish 
hero.  When  will  this  country  have  such  a  man  ?  It  is  what  she 
needs ;  no  thin  Idealist,  no  coarse  Realist,  but  a  man  whose  eye 
reads  the  heavens,  while  his  feet  step  firmly  on  the  ground,  and  his 
hands  are  strong  and  dexterous  for  the  use  of  human  implements. 
A  man  religious,  virtuous,  and  —  sagacious ;  a  man  of  universal 
sympathies,  but  self-possessed  ;  a  man  who  knows  the  region  of 
emotion,  though  he  is  not  its  slave  ;  a  man  to  whom  this  world  is 
no  mere  spectacle,  or  fleeting  shadow,  but  a  great,  solemn  game,  to 
be  played  with  good  heed,  for  its  stakes  are  of  eternal  value,  yet 
who,  if  his  own  play  be  true,  heeds  not  what  he  loses  by  the  false 
hood  of  others ;  —  a  man  who  hives  from  the  past,  yet  knows  that 
its  honey  can  but  moderately  avail  him  ;  whose  comprehensive 
eye  scans  the  present,  neither  infatuated  by  its  golden  lures,  nor 
chilled  by  its  many  ventures ;  who  possesses  prescience,  as  the 
wise  man  must,  but  not  so  far  as  to  be  driven  inad  to-day  by  the 
gift  which  discerns  to-morrow ;  —  when  there  is  such  a  man  for 
America,  the  thought  which  urges  her  on  will  be  expressed. 


Now  that  I  am  about  to  leave  Illinois,  feelings  of  regret  and 
admiration  come  over  me,  as  in  parting  with  a  friend  whom  we 
5* 


54  SUMMER    ON    THE    LAKES. 

have  not  had  the  good  sense  to  prize  and  study,  while  hours  of 
association,  never  perhaps  to  return,  were  granted.  I  have  fixed 
my  attention  almost  exclusively  on  the  picturesque  beauty  of 
this  region ;  it  was  so  new,  so  inspiring.  But  I  ought  to  have 
been  more  interested  in  the  housekeeping  of  this  magnificent 
State,  in  the  education  she  is  giving  her  children,  in  their  pros 
pects. 

Illinois  is,  at  present,  a  by-word  of  reproach  among  the  nations, 
for  the  careless,  prodigal  course  by  which,  in  early  youth,  she  has 
endangered  her  honor.  But  you  cannot  look  about  you  there, 
without  seeing  that  there  are  resources  abundant  to  retrieve,  and 
soon  to  retrieve,  far  greater  errors,  if  they  are  only  directed  with 
wisdom. 

Would  that  the  simple  maxim,  that  honesty  is  the  best  policy, 
might  be  laid  to  heart ;  that  a  sense  of  the  true  aim  of  life  might 
elevate  the  tone  of  politics  and  trade  till  public  and  private  honor 
became  identical ;  that  the  Western  man,  in  that  crowded  and  ex 
citing  life  which  develops  his  faculties  so  fully  for  to-day,  might 
not  forget  that  better  part  which  could  not  be  taken  from  him ; 
that  the  Western  woman  might  take  that  interest  and  acquire  that 
light  for  the  education  of  the  children,  for  which  she  alone  has 
leisure  ! 

This  is  indeed  the  great  problem  of  the  place  and  time.  If  the 
next  generation  be  well  prepared  for  their  work,  ambitious  of 
good  and  skilful  to  achieve  it,  the  children  of  the  present  settlers 
may  be  leaven  enough  for  the  mass  constantly  increasing  by  im 
migration.  And  how  much  is  this  needed,  where  those  rude  for 
eigners  can  so  little  understand  the  best  interests  of  the  land  they 
seek  for  bread  and  shelter !  It  would  be  a  happiness  to  aid  in 
this  good  work,  and  interweave  the  white  and  golden  threads  into 
the  fate  of  Illinois.  It  would  be  a  work  worthy  the  devotion  of 
any  mind. 

In  the  little  that  I  saw  was  a  large  proportion  of  intelligence, 
activity,  and  kind  feeling ;  but,  if  there  was  much  serious  laying 
to  heart  of  the  true  purposes  of  life,  it  did  not  appear  in  the  tone 
of  conversation. 


MORRIS    BIRKBECK.  f>5 

Having  before  me  the  Illinois  Guide-Book,  I  find  there  men 
tioned,  as  a  "  visionary,"  one  of  the  men  I  should  think  of  as  able 
to  be  a  truly  valuable  settler  in  a  new  and  great  country,  —  Mor 
ris  Birkbeck,  of  England.  Since  my  return,  I  have  read  his 
journey  to,  and  letters  from,  Illinois.  I  see  nothing  promised 
there  that  will  not  surely  belong  to  the  man  who  knows  how  to 
seek  for  it. 

Mr.  Birkbeck  was  an  enlightened  philanthropist,  the  rather 
that  he  did  not  wish  to  sacrifice  himself  to  his  fellow-men,  but  to 
benefit  them  with  all  he  had,  and  was,  and  wished.  He  thought 
all  the  creatures  of  a  divine  love  ought  to  be  happy  and  ought  to 
be  good,  and  that  his  own  soul  and  his  own  life  were  not  less  pre 
cious  than  those  of  others ;  indeed,  that  to  keep  these  healthy  was 
his  only  means  of  a  healthy  influence. 

But  his  aims  were  altogether  generous.  Freedom,  the  liberty 
of  law,  not  license ;  not  indolence,  work  for  himself  and  children 
and  all  men,  but  under  genial  and  poetic  influences  ;  —  these  were 
his  aims.  How  different  from  those  of  the  new  settlers  in  gen 
eral!  And  into  his  mind  so  long  ago  shone  steadily  the  two 
thoughts,  now  so  prevalent  in  thinking  and  aspiring  minds,  of 
"  Resist  not  evil,"  and  "  Every  man  his  own  priest,  and  the  heart 
the  only  true  church." 

He  has  lost  credit  for  sagacity  from  accidental  circumstances. 
It  does  not  appear  that  his  position  was  ill  chosen,  or  his  means 
disproportioned  to  his  ends,  had  he  been  sustained  by  funds  from 
England,  as  he  had  a  right  to  expect.  But  through  the  profligacy 
of  a  near  relative,  commissioned  to  collect  these  dues,  he  was  dis 
appointed  of  them,  and  his  paper  protested  and  credit  destroyed 
in  our  cities,  before  he  became  aware  of  his  danger. 

Still,  though  more  slowly  and  with  more  difficulty,  he  might 
have  succeeded  in  his  designs.  The  English  farmer  might  havti 
made  the  English  settlement  a  model  for  good  methods  and  good 
aims  to  all  that  region,  had  not  death  prematurely  cut  short  his 
plans. 

I  have  wished  to  say  these  few  words,  because  the  veneration 
with  which  I  have  been  inspired  for  his  character  by  those  who 


56  SUMMER    ON    THE    LAKES. 

knew  him  well,  makes  me  impatient  of  this  careless  blame  being 
passed  from  mouth  to  mouth  and  book  to  book.  Success  is  no 
test  of  a  man's  endeavor,  and  Illinois  will  yet,  I  hope,  regard  this 
man,  who  knew  so  well  what  ought  to  be,  as  one  of  her  true  pa 
triarchs,  the  Abraham  of  a  promised  land. 

He  was  one  too  much  before  his  time  to  be  soon  valued ;  but 
the  time  is  growing  up  to  him,  and  will  understand  his  mild  phi 
lanthropy,  and  clear,  large  views. 

I  subjoin  the  account  of  his  death,  given  me  by  a  friend,  as  ex 
pressing,  in  fair  picture,  the  character  of  the  man. 

"  Mi1.  Birkbeck  was  returning  from  the  seat  of  government, 
whither  he  had  been  on  public  business,  and  was  accompanied  by 
his  son  Bradford,  a  youth  of  sixteen  or  eighteen.  It  was  neces 
sary  to  cross  a  ford,  which  was  rendered  difficult  by  the  swelling 
of  the  stream.  Mr.  B.'s  horse  was  unwilling  to  plunge  into  the 
water,  so  his  son  offered  to  go  first,  and  he  followed.  Bradford's 
horse  had  just  gained  footing  on  the  opposite  shore,  when  he 
looked  back  and  perceived  his  father  was  dismounted,  struggling 
in  the  water,  and  carried  down  by  the  current. 

"Mr.  Birkbeck  could  not  swim;  Bradford  could;  so  he  dis 
mounted,  and  plunged  into  the  stream  to  save  his  father.  He 
got  to  him  before  he  sunk,  held  him  up  above  water,  and  told  him  to 
take  hold  of  his  collar,  and  he  would  swim  ashore  with  him.  Mr. 
B.  did  so,  and  Bradford  exerted  all  his  strength  to  stem  the  cur 
rent  and  reach  the  shore  at  a  point  where  they  could  land  ;  but, 
encumbered  by  his  own  clothing  and  his  father's  weight,  he  made 
no  progress  ;  when  Mr.  B.  perceived  this,  he,  with  his  character 
istic  calmness  and  resolution,  gave  up  his  hold  of  his  son,  and, 
motioning  to  him  to  save  himself,  resigned  himself  to  his  fate. 
His  son  reached  the  shore,  but  was  too  much  overwhelmed  by 
his  loss  to  leave  it.  He  was  found  by  some  travellers,  many 
hours  after,  seated  on  the  margin  of  the  stream,  with  his  face  in 
his  hands,  stupefied  with  grief. 

"  The  body  was  found,  and  on  the  countenance  was  the  sweet 
est  smile  ;  and  Bradford  said,  '  Just  so  he  smiled  upon  me  when 
he  let  go  and  pushed  me  away  from  him.' " 


MORRIS    BIRKBECK.  57 

Many  men  can  choose  the  right  and  best  on  a  great  occasion, 
but  not  many  can,  with  such  ready  and  serene  decision,  lay  aside 
even  life,  when  that  is  right  and  best.  This  little  narrative  touched 
my  imagination  in  very  early  youth,  and  often  has  come  up,  in 
lonely  vision,  that  face,  serenely  smiling  above  the  current  which 
bore  him  away  to  another  realm  of  being. 


CHAPTER    V. 

THOUGHTS    AND     SCENES     IN    WISCONSIN. SOCIETY     IN     MIL- 

WAUKIE. INDIAN     ANECDOTE. SEERESS     OF     PREVORST. 

MILWAUKIE. 

A  TERRITORY,  not  yet  a  State  ;  *  still  nearer  the  acorn  than 
we  were. 

It  was  very  pleasant  coming  up.  These  large  and  elegant 
boats  are  so  well  arranged  that  every  excursion  may  be  a  party 
of  pleasure.  There  are  many  fair  shows  to  see  on  the  lake  and 
its  shores,  almost  always  new  and  agreeable  persons  on  board, 
pretty  children  playing  about,  ladies  singing  (and  if  not  very 
well,  there  is  room  to  keep  out  of  the  way).  You  may  see  a 
great  deal  here  of  Life,  in  the  London  sense,  if  you  know  a  few 
people  ;  or  if  you  do  not,  and  have  the  tact  to  lo'ok  about  you 
without  seeming  to  stare. 

We  came  to  Milwaukie,  where  we  were  to  pass  a  fortnight  or 
more. 

This  place  is  most  beautifully  situated.  A  little  river,  with 
romantic  banks,  passes  up  through  the  town.  The  bank  of  the 
lake  is  here  a  bold  bluff,  eighty  feet  in  height.  From  its  summit 
is  enjoyed  a  noble  outlook  on  the  lake.  A  little  narrow  path 
winds  along  the  edge  of  the  lake  below.  I  liked  this  walk  much.  — 
above  me  this  high  wall  of  rich  earth,  garlanded  on  its  crest  with 
trees,  the  long  ripples  of  the  lake  coming  up  to  my  feet.  Here, 
standing  in  the  shadow,  I  could  appreciate  better  its  magnificent 


*  Wisconsin  was  not  admitted  into  the  Union  as  a  State  till  1847,  after  this 
volume  was  written.  —  ED. 


MILWAUKIE.  59 

changes  of  color,  whieh  are  the  chief  beauties  of  the  lake-waters  ; 
but  these  are  indescribable. 

It  was  fine  to  ascend  into  the  lighthouse,  above  this  bluff,  and 
thence  watch  the  thunder-clouds  which  so  frequently  rose  over 
the  lake,  or  the  great  boats  coming  in.  Approaching  the  Mil- 
waukie  pier,  they  made  a  bend,  and  seemed  to  do  obeisance  in 
the  heavy  style  of  some  dowager  duchess  entering  a  circle  she 
wishes  to  treat  with  especial  respect. 

These  boats  come  in  and  out  every  day,  and  still  afford  a  cause 
for  general  excitement.  The  people  swarm  down  to  greet  them, 
to  receive  and  send  away  their  packages  and  letters.  To  me  they 
seemed  such  mighty  messengers,  to  give,  by  their  noble  motion, 
such  an  idea  of  the  power  and  fulness  of  life,  that  they  were 
worthy  to  cany  despatches  from  king  to  king.  It  must  be  very 
pleasant  for  those  who  have  an  active  share  in  carrying  on  the 
affairs  of  this  great  and  growing  world  to  see  them  approach,  and 
pleasant  to  such  as  have  dearly  loved  friends  at  the  next  station. 
To  those  who  have  neither  business  nor  friends,  it  sometimes  gives 
a  desolating  sense  of  insignificance. 

The  town  promises  to  be,  some  time,  a  fine  one,  as  it  is  so  well 
situated  ;  and  they  have  good  building  material,  —  a  yellow  brick, 
very  pleasing  to  the  eye.  It  seems  to  grow  before  you,  and  has 
indeed  but  just  emerged  from  the  thickets  of  oak  and  wild-roses. 
A  few  steps  will  take  you  into  the  thickets,  and  certainly  I  never 
saw  so  many  wild-roses,  or  of  so  beautiful  a  red.  Of  such  a  color 
were  the  first  red  ones  the  world  ever  saw,  when,  says  the  legend, 
Venus  flying  to  the  assistance  of  Adonis,  the  rose-bushes  kept 
catching  her  to  make  her  stay,  and  the  drops  of  blood  the  thorns 
drew  from  her  feet,  as  she  tore  herself  away,  fell  on  the  white 
roses,  and  turned  them  this  beautiful  red. 

One  day,  walking  along  the  river's  bank  in  search  of  a  water 
fall  to  be  seen  from  one  ravine,  we  heard  tones  from  a  band  of 
music,  and  saw  a  gay  troop  shooting  at  a  mark,  on  the  opposite 
bank.  Between  every  shot  the  band  played  ;  the  effect  was  very 
pretty. 

On  this  walk  we  found  two  of  the  oldest  and  most  gnarled  hem- 


60  SUMMER    ON   THE    LAKES. 

locks  that  ever  afforded  study  for  a  painter.  They  were  the  only 
ones  we  saw ;  they  seemed  the  veterans  of  a  former  race. 

At  Milwaukie,  as  at  Chicago,  are  many  pleasant  people,  drawn 
together  from  all  parts  of  the  world.  A  resident  here  would  find 
great  piquancy  in  the  associations,  —  those  he  met  having  such 
dissimilar  histories  and  topics.  And  several  persons  I  saw,  evi 
dently  transplanted  from  the  most  refined  circles  to  be  met  in  this 
country.  There  are  lures  enough  in  the  West  for  people  of  all 
kinds ;  —  the  enthusiast  and  the  cunning  man  ;  the  naturalist, 
and  the  lover  who  needs  to  be  rich  for  the  sake  of  her  he  loves. 

The  torrent  of  immigration  swells  very  strongly  towards  this 
place.  During  the  fine  weather,  the  poor  refugees  arrive  daily, 
in  their  national  dresses,  all  travel-soiled  and  worn.  The  night 
they  pass  in  rude  shantees,  in  a  particular  quarter  of  the  town, 
then  walk  off  into  the  country,  —  the  mothers  carrying  their  in 
fants,  the  fathers  leading  the  little  children  by  the  hand,  seeking 
a  home  where  their  hands  may  maintain  them. 

One  morning  we  set  off  in  their  track,  and  travelled  a  day's 
journey  into  this  country,  —  fair,  yet  not,  in  that  part  which  I 
saw,  comparable,  in  my  eyes,  to  the  Rock  River  region.  Rich 
fields,  proper  for  grain,  alternate  with  oak  openings,  as  they  are 
called  ;  bold,  various,  and  beautiful  were  the  features  of  the  scene, 
but  I  saw  not  those  majestic  sweeps,  those  boundless  distances, 
those  heavenly  fields ;  it  was  not  the  same  world. 

Neither  did  we  travel  in  the  same  delightful  manner.  We 
were  now  in  a  nice  carriage,  which  must  not  go  off  the  road,  for 
fear  of  breakage,  with  a  regular  coachman,  whose  chief  care  was 
not  to  tire  his  horses,  and  who  had  no  taste  for  entering  fields  in 
pursuit  of  wild-flowers,  or  tempting  some  strange  wood-path  in 
search  of  whatever  might  befall.  It  was  pleasant,  but  almost  as 
tame  as  New  England. 

But  charming  indeed  was  the  place  where  we  stopped.  It  was 
in  the  vicinity  of  a  chain  of  lakes,  and  on  the  bank  of  the  love 
liest  little  stream,  called  the  Bark  River,  which  flowed  in  rapid 
amber  brightness,  through  fields,  and  dells,  and  stately  knolls,  of 
most  poetic  beauty. 


INDIAN   ANECDOTE.  61 

The  little  log-cabin  where  we  slept,  with  its  flower-garden  in 
front,  disturbed  the  scene  no  more  than  a  stray  lock  on  the  fair 
cheek.  The  hospitality  of  that  house  I  may  well  call  princely ; 
it  was  the  boundless  hospitality  of  the  heart,  which,  if  it  has  no 
Aladdin's  lamp  to  create  a  palace  for  the  guest,  does  him  still 
higher  service  by  the  freedom  of  its  bounty  to  the  very  last 
drop  of  its  powers. 

Sweet  were  the  sunsets  seen  in  the  valley  of  this  stream, 
though  here,  and,  I  grieve  to  say,  no  less  near  the  Rock  River, 
the  fiend,  who  has  every  liberty  to  tempt  the  happy  in  this  world, 
appeared  in  the  shape  of  mosquitos,  and  allowed  us  no  bodily  to 
enjoy  our  mental  peace. 

One  day  we  ladies  gave,  under  the  guidance  of  our  host,  to 
visiting  all  the  beauties  of  the  adjacent  lakes,  —  Nomabbin, 
Silver,  and  Pine  Lakes.  On  the  shore  of  Nomabbin  had  for 
merly  been  one  of  the  finest  Indian  villages.  Our  host  said,  that 
once,  as  he  was  lying  there  beneath  the  bank,  he  saw  a  tall 
Indian  standing  at  gaze  on  the  knoll.  He  lay  a  long  time,  curi 
ous  to  see  how  long  the  figure  would  maintain  its  statue-like  ab 
sorption.  But  at  last  his  patience  yielded,  and,  in  moving,  he 
made  a  slight  noise.  The  Indian  saw  him,  gave  a  wild,  snorting 
sound  of  indignation  and  pain,  and  strode  away. 

What  feelings  must  consume  their  hearts  at  such  moments! 
I  scarcely  see  how  they  can  forbear  to  shoot  the  white  man  where 
he  stands. 

But  the  power  of  fate  is  with  the  white  man,  and  the  Indian 
feels  it.  This  same  gentleman  told  of  his  travelling  through  the 
wilderness  with  an  Indian  guide.  He  had  with  him  a  bottle  of 
spirit  which  he  meant  to  give  him  in  small  quantities,  but  the  In 
dian,  once  excited,  wanted  the  whole  at  once.  "  I  would  not,"  said 

Mr. ,  "  give  it  him,  for  I  thought,  if  he  got  really  drunk, 

there  was  an  end  to  his  services  as  a  guide.  But  he  persisted, 
and  at  last  tried  to  take  it  from  me.  I  was  not  armed  ;  he  was? 
and  twice  as  strong  as  I.  But  I  knew  an  Indian  could  not  resist 
the  look  of  a  white  man,  and  I  fixed  my  eye  steadily  on  his. 
He  bore  it  for  a  moment,  then  his  eye  fell ;  he  let  go  the  bottle. 
6 


62  SUMMER    ON    THE    LAKES. 

I  took  his  gun  and  threw  it  to  a  distance.  After  a  few  moments' 
pause,  I  told  him  to  go  and  fetch  it,  and  left  it  in  his  hands. 
From  that  moment  he  was  quite  obedient,  even  servile,  all  the 
rest  of  the  way." 

This  gentleman,  though  in  other  respects  of  most  kindly  and 
liberal  heart,  showed  the  aversion  that  the  white  man  soon  learns 
to  feel  for  the  Indian  on  whom  he  encroaches,  —  the  aversion  of 
the  injurer  for  him  he  has  degraded.  After  telling  the  anecdote 
of  his  seeing  the  Indian  gazing  at  the  seat  of  his  former  home, 

"  A  thing  for  human  feelings  the  most  trying," 

and  which,  one  would  think,  would  have  awakened  soft  compas 
sion  —  almost  remorse  —  in  the  present  owner  of  that  fair  hill, 
which  contained  for  the  exile  the  bones  of  his  dead,  the  ashes  of 
his  hopes,  he  observed :  "  They  cannot  be  prevented  from  strag 
gling  back  here  to  their  old  haunts.  I  wish  they  could.  They 
ought  not  to  be  permitted  to  drive  away  our  game."  OUR  game, 
—  just  heavens ! 

The  same  gentleman  showed,  on  a  slight  occasion,  the  true 
spirit  of  a  sportsman,  or  perhaps  I  might  say  of  Man,  when 
engaged  in  any  kind  of  chase.  Showing  us  some  antlers,  he 
said :  "  This  one  belonged  to  a  majestic  creature.  But  this  other 
was  the  beauty.  I  had  been  lying  a  long  time  at  watch,  when  at 
last  I  heard  them  come  crackling  along.  I  lifted  my  head  cau 
tiously,  as  they  burst  through  the  trees.  The  first  was  a  magnifi 
cent  fellow  ;  but  then  I  saw  coming  one,  the  prettiest,  the  most 
graceful  I  ever  beheld,  —  there  was  something  so  soft  and  be 
seeching  in  its  look.  I  chose  him  at  once,  took  aim,  and  shot 
him  dead.  You  see  the  antlers  are  not  very  large ;  it  was  young, 
but  the  prettiest  creature  ! " 

In  the  course  of  this  morning's  drive,  we  visited  the  gentlemen 
on  their  fishing  party.  They  hailed  us  gayly,  and  rowed  ashore 
to  show  us  what  fine  booty  they  had.  No  disappointment  there, 
no  dull  work. 

On  the  beautiful  point  of  land  from  which  we  first  saw  them  lived 
a  contented  woman,  the  only  one  I  heard  of  out  there.  She  was 


GUNHILDA.  63 

English,  and  said  she  had  seen  so  much  suffering  in  her  own  coun 
try,  that  the  hardships  of  this  seemed  as  nothing  to  her.  But  the 
others  —  even  our  sweet  and  gentle  hostess  —  found  their  labors 
disproportioned  to  their  strength,  if  not  to  their  patience ;  and, 
while  their  husbands  and  brothers  enjoyed  the  country  in  hunting 
or  fishing,  they  found  themselves  confined  to  a  comfortless  and 
laborious  in-door  life.  But  it  need  not  be  so  long. 

This  afternoon,  driving  about  on  the  banks  of  these  lakes,  we 
found  the  scene  all  of  one  kind  of  loveliness ;  wide,  graceful 
woods,  and  then  these  fine  sheets  of  water,  with  fine  points  of 
land  jutting  out  boldly  into  them.  It  was  lovely,  but  not  striking 
or  peculiar. 

All  woods  suggest  pictures.  The  European  forest,  with  its 
long  glades  and  green,  sunny  dells,  naturally  suggested  the  figures 
of  armed  knight  on  his  proud  steed,  or  maiden,  decked  in  gold 
and  pearl,  pricking  along  them  on  a  snow-white  palfrey ;  the 
green  dells,  of  weary  Palmer  sleeping  there  beside  the  spring 
with  his  head  upon  his  wallet.  Our  minds,  familiar  with  such 
figures.,  people  with  them  the  New  England  woods,  wherever  the 
sunlight  falls  down  a  longer  than  usual  cart-track,  wherever  a 
cleared  spot  has  lain  still  enough  for  the  trees  to  look  friendly, 
with  their  exposed  sides  cultivated  by  the  light,  and  the  grass  to 
look  velvet  warm,  and  be  embroidered  with  flowers.  These 
Western  woods  suggest  a  different  kind  of  ballad.  The  Indian 
legends  have  often  an  air  of  the  wildest  solitude,  as  has  the  one 
Mr.  Lowell  has  put  into  verse  in  his  late  volume.  But  I  did  not 
see  those  wild  woods  ;  only  such  as  suggest  to  me  little  romances, 
of  love  and  sorrow,  like  this  :  — 

GUNHILDA. 

A  maiden  sat  beneath  the  tree, 
Tear-bedewed  her  pale  cheeks  be, 
And  she  sigheth  heavily. 

From  forth  the  wood  into  the  light 
A  hunter  strides,  with  carol  light, 
And  a  glance  so  bold  and  bright. 


64  SUMMER    ON    THE    LAKES. 

He  careless  stopped  and  eyed  the  maid ; 
"  Why  weepest  thou  ?  "  he  gently  said  ; 
"  I  love  thee  well ;  be  not  afraid." 

He  takes  her  hand,  and  leads  her  on  ; 
She  should  have  waited  there  alone, 
For  he  was  not  her  chosen  one. 

He  leans  her  head  upon  his  breast, 
She  knew  't  was  not  her  home  of  rest, 
But  ah  !  she  had  been  sore  distrest. 

The  sacred  stars  looked  sadly  down  ; 
The  parting  moon  appeared  to  frown, 
To  see  thus  dimmed  the  diamond  crown. 

Then  from  the  thicket  starts  a  deer, 
The  huntsman,  seizing  on  his  spear, 
Cries,  "  Maiden,  wait  thou  for  me  here." 

She  sees  him  vanish  into  night, 

She  starts  from  sleep  in  deep  affright, 

For  it  was  not  her  own  true  knight. 

Though  but  in  dream  Gunhilda  failed, 
Though  but  a  fancied  ill  assailed, 
Though  she  but  fancied  fault  bewailed,  — 

Yet  thought  of  day  makes  dream  of  night : 
She  is  not  worthy  of  the  knight, 
The  inmost  altar  burns  not  bright. 

If  loneliness  thou  canst  not  bear, 
Cannot  the  dragon's  venom  dare, 
Of  the  pure  meed  thou  shouldst  despair. 

Now  sadder  that  lone  maiden  sighs, 
Far  bitterer  tears  profane  her  eyes, 
Crushed  in  the  dust  her  heart's  flower  lies. 

On  the  bank  of  Silver  Lake  we  saw  an  Indian  encampment.     A 
shower  threatened  us,  but  we  resolved  to  try  if  we  could  not  visit 


INDIAN    ENCAMPMENT.  65 

it  before  it  came  on.  We  crossed  a  wide  field  on  foot,  and  found 
the  Indians  amid  the  trees  on  a  shelving  bank  ;  just  as  we  reached 
them,  the  rain  began  to  fall  in  torrents,  with  frequent  thunder 
claps,  and  we  had  to  take  refuge  in  their  lodges.  These  were  very 
small,  being  for  temporary  use,  and  we  crowded  the  occupants 
much,  among  whom  were  several  sick,  on  the  damp  ground,  or 
with  only  a  ragged  mat  between  them  and  it.  But  they  showed 
all  the  gentle  courtesy  which  marks  their  demeanor  towards  the 
stranger,  who  stands  in  any  need  ;  though  it  was  obvious  that  the 
visit,  which  inconvenienced  them,  could  only  have  been  caused  by 
the  most  impertinent  curiosity,  they  made  us  as  comfortable  as 
their  extreme  poverty  permitted.  They  seemed  to  think  we 
would  not  like  to  touch  them ;  a  sick  girl  in  the  lodge  where  I 
was,  persisted  in  moving  so  as  to  give  me  the  dry  place ;  a  woman, 
with  the  sweet  melancholy  eye  of  the  race,  kept  off  the  children 
and  wet  dogs  from  even  the  hem  of  my  garment. 

Without,  their  fires  smouldered,  and  black  kettles,  hung  over 
them  on  sticks,  smoked  and  seethed  in  the  rain.  An  old,  theat 
rical-looking  Indian  stood  with  arms  folded,  looking  up  to  the 
heavens,  from  which  the  rain  dashed  and  the  thunder  rever 
berated  ;  his  air  was  French-Roman  ;  that  is,  more  Romanesque 
than  Roman.  The  Indian  ponies,  much  excited,  kept  careering 
through  the  wood,  around  the  encampment,  and  now  and  then, 
halting  suddenly,  would  thrust  in  their  intelligent,  though  amazed 
faces,  as  if  to  ask  their  masters  when  this  awful  pother  would 
cease,  and  then,  after  a  moment,  rush  and  trample  off  again. 

At  last  we  got  away,  well  wetted,  but  with  a  picturesque  scene 
for  memory.  At  a  house  where  we  stopped  to  get  dry,  they  told 
us  that  this  wandering  band  (of  Pottawattamies),  who  had  re 
turned  on  a  visit,  either  from  homesickness,  or  need  of  relief, 
were  extremely  destitute.  The  women  had  been  there  to  see  if 
they  could  barter  for  food  their  head-bands,  with  which  they 
club  their  hair  behind  into  a  form  not  unlike  a  Grecian  knot. 
They  seemed,  indeed,  to  have  neither  food,  utensils,  clothes,  nor 
bedding  ;  nothing  but  the  ground,  the  sky,  and  their  own  strength. 
Little  wonder  if  they  drove  off  the  game ! 
6* 


66  SUMMER    ON    THE    LAKES. 

Part  of  the  same  band  I  had  seen  in  Milwaukie,  on  a  begging 
dance.  The  effect  of  this  was  wild  and  grotesque.  They  wore 
much  paint  and  feather  head-dresses.  "  Indians  without  paint  are 
JDOOI*  coots,"  said  a  gentleman  who  had  been  a  great  deal  with,  and 
really  liked,' them;  and  I  like  the  effect  of  the  paint  on  them  ; 
it  reminds  of  the  gay  fantasies  of  nature.  With  them  in  Mil 
waukie  was  a  chief,  the  finest  Indian  figure  I  saw,  more  than  six 
feet  in  height,  erect,  and  of  a  sullen,  but  grand  gait  and  gesture. 
He  wore  a  deep-red  blanket,  which  fell  in  large  folds  from  his 
shoulders  to  his  feet,  did  not  join  in  the  dance,  but  slowly  strode 
about  through  the  streets,  a  fine  sight,  not  a  French-Roman,  but 
a  real  Roman.  He  looked  unhappy,  but  listlessly  unhappy,  as  if 
he  felt  it  was  of  no  use  to  strive  or  resist. 

While  in  the  neighborhood  of  these  lakes,  we  visited  also  a 
foreign  settlement  of  great  interest.  Here  were  minds,  it  seemed, 
to  "  comprehend  the  trust  "  of  their  new  life ;  and,  if  they  can 
only  stand  true  to  them,  will  derive  and  bestow  great  benefits 
therefrom. 

But  sad  and  sickening  to  the  enthusiast  who  comes  to  these 
shores,  hoping  the  tranquil  enjoyment  of  intellectual  blessings, 
and  the  pure  happiness  of  mutual  love,  must  be  a  part  of  the 
scene  that  he  encounters  at  first.  He  has  escaped  from  the 
heartlessness  of  courts,  to  encounter  the  vulgarity  of  the  mob ; 
he  has  secured  solitude,  but  it  is  a  lonely,  a  deserted  solitude. 
Amid  the  abundance  of  nature,  he  cannot,  from  petty,  but  insuper 
able  obstacles,  procure,  for  a  long  time,  comforts  or  a  home. 

But  let  him  come  sufficiently  armed  with  patience  to  learn  the 
new  spells  which  the  new  dragons  require,  (and  this  can  only  be 
done  on  the  spot,)  he  will  not  finally  be  disappointed  of  the  promised 
treasure ;  the  mob  will  resolve  itself  into  men,  yet  crude,  but  of 
good  dispositions,  and  capable  of  good  character;  the  solitude 
will  become  sufficiently  enlivened,  and  home  grow  up  at  last 
from  the  rich  sod. 

In  this  transition  state  we  found  one  of  these  homes.  As  we 
approached,  it  seemed  the  very  Eden  which  earth  might  still 
afford  to  a  pair  willing  to  give  up  the  hackneyed  pleasures  of  the 


THE    COTTAGE.  G7 

world  for  a  better  and  more  intimate  communion  with  one  another 
and  with  beauty :  the  wild  road  led  through  wide,  beautiful  woods, 
to  the  wilder  and  more  beautiful  shores  of  the  finest  lake  we  saw. 
On  its  waters,  glittering  in  the  morning  sun,  a  few  Indians  were 
paddling  to  and  fro  in  their  light  canoes.  On  one  of  those  fair 
knolls  I  have  so  often  mentioned  stood  the  cottage,  beneath  trees 
which  stooped  as  if  they  yet  felt  brotherhood  with  its  roof-tree. 
Flowers  waved,  birds  fluttered  round,  all  had  the  sweetness  of  a 
happy  seclusion ;  all  invited  to  cry  to  those  who  inhabited  it, 
All  hail,  ye  happy  ones ! 

But  on  entrance  to  those  evidently  rich  in  personal  beauty, 
talents,  love,  and  courage,  the  aspect  of  things  was  rather  sad. 
Sickness  had  been  with  them,  death,  care,  and  labor ;  these  had 
not  yet  blighted  them,  but  had  turned  their  gay  smiles  grave. 
It  seemed  that  hope  and  joy  had  given  place  to  resolution.  How 
much,  too,  was  there  in  them,  worthless  in  this  place,  which  would 
have  been  so  valuable  elsewhere !  Refined  graces,  cultivated 
powers,  shine  in  vain  before  field-laborers,  as  laborers  are  in 
this  present  world;  you  might  as  well  cultivate  heliotropes  to 
present  to  an  ox.  Oxen  and  heliotropes  are  both  good,  but  not 
for  one  another. 

With  them  were  some  of  the  old  means  of  enjoyment,  the 
books,  the  pencil,  the  guitar ;  but  where  the  wash-tub  and  the 
axe  are  so  constantly  in  requisition,  there  is  not  much  time  and 
pliancy  of  hand  for  these. 

In  the  inner  room,  the  master  of  the  house  was  seated  ;  he  had 
been  sitting  there  long,  for  he  had  injured  his  foot  on  ship-board, 
and  his  farming  had  to  be  done  by  proxy.  His  beautiful  young 
wife  was  his  only  attendant  and  nurse,  as  well  as  a  farm  house 
keeper.  How  well  she  performed  hard  and  unaccustomed  duties, 
the  objects  of  her  care  showed ;  everything  that  belonged  to  the 
house  was  rude,  but  neatly  arranged.  The  invalid,  confined  to  an 
uneasy  wooden  chair,  (they  had  not  been  able  to  induce  any  one 
to  bring  them  an  easy-chair  from  the  town,)  looked  as  neat  and 
elegant  as  if  he  had  been  dressed  by  the  valet  of  a  duke.  He 
was  of  Northern  blood,  with  clear,  full  blue  eyes,  calm  features,  a 


68  SUMMER    ON    THE    LAKES. 

tempering  of  the  soldier,  scholar,  and  man  of  the  world,  in  his 
aspect.  Either  various  intercourses  had  given  him  that  thorough 
bred  look  never  seen  in  Americans,  or  it  was  inherited  from  a 
race  who  had  known  all  these  disciplines.  He  formed  a  great 
but  pleasing  contrast  to  his  wife,  whose  glowing  complexion  and 
dark  yellow  eye  bespoke  an  origin  in  some  climate  more  familiar 
with  the  sun.  He  looked  as  if  he  could  sit  there  a  great  while 
patiently,  and  live  on  his  own  mind,  biding  his  time ;  she,  as  if 
she  could  bear  anything  for  affection's  sake,  but  would  feel  the 
weight  of  each  moment  as  it  passed. 

Seeing  the  album  full  of  drawings  and  verses,  which  bespoke 
the  circle  of  elegant  and  affectionate  intercourse  they  had  left 
behind,  we  could  not  but  see  that  the  young  wife  sometimes  must 
need  a  sister,  the  husband  a  companion,  and  both  must  often  miss 
that  electricity  which  sparkles  from  the  chain  of  congenial  minds. 

For  mankind,  a  position  is  desirable  in  some  degree  propor 
tioned  to  education.  Mr.  Birkbeck  was  bred  a  farmer,  but  these 
were  nurslings  of  the  court  and  city ;  they  may  persevere,  for  an 
affectionate  courage  shone  in  their  eyes,  and,  if  so,  become  true 
lords  of  the  soil,  and  informing  geniuses  to  those  around  ;  then,  per 
haps,  they  will  feel  that  they  have  not  paid  too  dear  for  the  tor 
mented  independence  of  the  new  settler's  life.  But,  generally, 
damask  roses  will  not  thrive  in  the  wood,  and  a  ruder  growth,  if 
healthy  and  pure,  we  wish  rather  to  see  there. 

I  feel  about  these  foreigners  very  differently  from  what  I  do 
about  Americans.  American  men  and  women  are  inexcusable  if 
they  do  not  bring  up  children  so  as  to  be  fit  for  vicissitudes ;  the 
meaning  of  our  star  is,  that  here  all  men  being  free  and  equal, 
every  man  should  be  fitted  for  freedom  and  an  independence  by  his 
own  resources  wherever  the  changeful  wave  of  our  mighty,  stream 
may  take  him.  But  the  star  of  Europe  brought  a  different  horo 
scope,  and  to  mix  destinies  breaks  the  thread  of  both.  The 
Arabian  horse  will  not  plough  well,  nor  can  the  plough-horse 
be  rode  to  play  the  jereed.  Yet  a  man  is  a  man  wherever  he 
goes,  and  something  precious  cannot  fail  to  be  gained  by  one  who 
knows  how  to  abide  by  a  resolution  of  any  kind,  and  pay  the  cost 
without  a  murmur. 


THE    SEERESS    OF    PREVORST.  69 

Returning,  the  fine  carriage  at  last  fulfilled  its  threat  of  break 
ing  down.  We  took  refuge  in  a  farm-house.  Here  was  a  pleas 
ant  scene,  —  a  rich  and  beautiful  estate,  several  happy  families, 
who  had  removed  together,  and  formed  a  natural  community, 
ready  to  help  and  enliven  one  another.  They  were  farmers  at 
home,  in  Western  New  York,  and  both  men  and  women  knew  how 
to  work.  Yet  even  here  the  women  did  not  like  the  change,  but 
they  were  willing,  "  as  it  might  be  best  for  the  young  folks." 
Their  hospitality  was  great :  the  houseful  of  women  and  pretty 
children  seemed  all  of  one  mind. 

Returning  to  Milwaukie  much  fatigued,  I  entertained  myself 
for  a  day  or  two  with  reading.  The  book  I  had  brought  with  me 
was  in  strong  contrast  with  the  life  around  me.  Very  strange 
was  this  vision  of  an  exalted  and  sensitive  existence,  which  seemed 
to  invade  the  next  sphere,  in  contrast  with  the  spontaneous,  in 
stinctive  life,  so  healthy  and  so  near  the  ground  I  had  been  sur 
veying.  This  was  the  German  book  entitled :  — 

"  The  Seeress  of  Prevorst.  —  Revelations  concerning  the  In 
ward  Life  of  Man,  and  the  Projection  of  a  World  of  Spirits 
into  ours,  communicated  by  Justinus  Kerner." 

This  book,  published  in  Germany  some  twelve  years  since,  and 
which  called  forth  there  plenteous  dews  of  admiration,  as  plen 
teous  hail-storms  of  jeers  and  scorns,  I  never  saw  mentioned  in 
any  English  publication  till  some  year  or  two  since.  Then  a 
playful,  but  not  sarcastic  account  of  it,  in  the  Dublin  Magazine, 
so  far  excited  my  curiosity,  that  I  procured  the  book,  intending  to 
read  it  so  soon  as  I  should  have  some  leisure  days,  such  as  this 
journey  has  afforded. 

Dr.  Kerner,  its  author,  is  a  man  of  distinction  in  his  native 
land,  both  as  a  physician  and  a  thinker,  though  always  on  the  side 
of  reverence,  marvel,  and  mysticism.  He  was  known  to  me  only 
through  two  or  three  little  poems  of  his  in  Catholic  legends,  which 
I  much  admired  for  the  fine  sense  they  showed  of  the  beauty  of 
symbols. 

He  here  gives  a  biography,  mental  and  physical,  of  one  of  the 
most  remarkable  cases  of  high  nervous  excitement  that  the  age, 


70  SUMMER    ON    THE    LAKES. 

so  interested  in  such,  yet  affords,  with  all  its  phenomena  of  clair 
voyance  and  susceptibility  of  magnetic  influences.  As  to  my  own 
mental  position  on  these  subjects,  it  may  be  briefly  expressed  by  a 
dialogue  between  several  persons  who  honor  me  with  a  portion  of 
friendly  confidence  and  criticism,  and  myself,  personified  as  Free 
Hope.  The  others  may  be  styled  Old  Church,  Good  Sense,  and 
Self-Poise. 

DIALOGUE. 

Good  Sense.  I  wonder  you  can  take  any  interest  in  such  ob 
servations  or  experiments.  Don't  you  see  how  almost  impossible 
it  is  to  make  them  with  any  exactness,  how  entirely  impossible  to 
know  anything  about  them  unless  made  by  yourself,  when  the 
least  leaven  of  credulity,  excited  fancy,  to  say  nothing  of  willing 
or  careless  imposture,  spoils  the  whole  loaf?  Beside,  allowing  the 
possibility  of  some  clear  glimpses  into  a  higher  state  of  being,  what 
do  we  want  of  it  now  ?  All  around  us  lies  what  we  neither  un 
derstand  nor  use.  Our  capacities,  our  instincts  for  this  our  pres 
ent  sphere,  are  but  half  developed.  Let  us  confine  ourselves  to 
that  till  the  lesson  be  learned ;  let  us  be  completely  natural,  be 
fore  we  trouble  ourselves  with  the  supernatural.  I  never  see  any 
of  these  things  but  I  long  to  get  away  and  lie  under  a  green  tree, 
and  let  the  wind  blow  on  me.  There  is  marvel  and  charm  enough 
in  that  for  me. 

Free  Hope.  And  for  me  also.  Nothing  is  truer  than  the 
Wordsworthian  creed,  on  which  Carlyle  lays  such  stress,  that  we 
need  only  look  on  the  miracle  of  every  day,  to  sate  ourselves 
with  thought  and  admiration  every  day.  But  how  are  our  facul 
ties  sharpened  to  do  it  ?  Precisely  by  apprehending  the  infinite 
results  of  every  day. 

Who  sees  the  meaning  of  the  flower  uprooted  in  the  ploughed 
field  ?  The  ploughman  who  does  not  look  beyond  its  boundaries 
and  does  not  raise  his  eyes  from  the  ground  ?  No,  —  but  the  poet 
who  sees  that  field  in  its  relations  with  the  universe,  and  looks 
oftener  to  the  sky  than  on  the  ground.  Only  the  dreamer  shall 


DIALOGUE.  71 

understand  realities,  though,  in  truth,  his  dreaming  must  be  not 
out  of  proportion  to  his  waking ! 

The  mind,  roused  powerfully  by  this  existence,  stretches  of 
itself  into  what  the  French  sage  calls  the  "  aromal  state."  From 
the  hope  thus  gleaned  it  forms  the  hypothesis,  under  whose  ban 
ner  it  collects  its  facts. 

Long  before  these  slight  attempts  were  made  to  establish  as  a 
science  what  is  at  present  called  animal  magnetism,  always,  in 
fact,  men  were  occupied  more  or  less  with  this  vital  principle,  — 
principle  of  flux  and  influx,  —  dynamic  of  our  mental  mechanics, 
—  human  phase  of  electricity.  Poetic  observation  was  pure, 
there  was  no  quackery  in  its  free  course,  as  there  is  so  often  in 
this  wilful  tampering  with  the  hidden  springs  of  life,  for  it  is  tam 
pering  unless  done  in  a  patient  spirit  and  with  severe  truth ;  yet 
it  may  be,  by  the  rude  or  greedy  miners,  some  good  ore  is  un 
earthed.  And  some  there  are  who  work  in  the  true  temper, 
patient  and  accurate  in  trial,  not  rushing  to  conclusions,  feeling 
there  is  a  mystery,  not  eager  to  call  it  by  name  till  they  can  know 
it  as  a  reality  :  such  may  learn,  such  may  teach. 

Subject  to  the  sudden  revelations,  the  breaks  in  habitual  exist 
ence,  caused  by  the  aspect  of  death,  the  touch  of  love,  the  flood  of 
music,  I  never  lived,  that  I  remember,  what  you  call  a  common 
natural  day.  All  my  days  are  touched  by  the  supernatural,  for  I 
feel  the  pressure  of  hidden  causes,  and  the  presence,  sometimes 
the  communion,  of  unseen  powers.  It  needs  not  that  I  should  ask 
the  clairvoyant  whether  "  a  spirit-world  projects  into  ours."  As 
to  the  specific  evidence,  I  would  not  tarnish  my  mind  by  hasty 
reception.  The  mind  is  not,  I  know,  a  highway,  but  a  temple, 
and  its  doors  should  not  be  carelessly  left  open.  Yet  it  were  sin, 
if  indolence  or  coldness  excluded  what  had  a  claim  to  enter ;  and 
I  doubt  whether,  in  the  eyes  of  pure  intelligence,  an  ill-grounded 
hasty  rejection  be  not  a  greater  sign  of  weakness  than  an  ill- 
grounded  and  hasty  faith. 

I  will  quote,  as  my  best  plea,  the  saying  of  a  man  old  in  years, 
but  not  in  heart,  and  whose  long  life  has  been  distinguished  by 
that  clear  adaptation  of  means  to  ends  which  gives  the  credit  of 


72  SUMMER    ON    THE    LAKES. 

practical  wisdom.  He  wrote  to  his  child,  "I  have  lived  too  long, 
and  seen  too  much,  to  be  mcredulous."  Noble  the  thought,  no 
less  so  its  frank  expression,  instead  of  saws  of  caution,  mean 
advices,  and  other  modern  instances.  Such  was  the  romance  of 
Socrates  when  he  bade  his  disciples  "  sacrifice  a  cock  to  JEscu- 
lapius." 

Old  Church.  You  are  always  so  quick-witted  and  voluble, 
Free  Hope,  you  don't  get  time  to  see  how  often  you  err,  and  even, 
perhaps,  sin  and  blaspheme.  The  Author  of  all  has  intended  to 
confine  our  knowledge  within  certain  boundaries,  has  given  us  a 
short  span  of  time  for  a  certain  probation,  for  which  our  faculties 
are  adapted.  By  wild  speculation  and  intemperate  curiosity  we 
violate  His  will,  and  incur  dangerous,  perhaps  fatal,  consequences. 
We  waste  our  powers,  and,  becoming  morbid  and  visionary,  are 
unfitted  to  obey  positive  precepts,  and  perform  positive  duties. 

Free  Hope.  I  do  not  see  how  it  is  possible  to  go  further  be 
yond  the  results  of  a  limited  human  experience  than  those  do  who 
pretend  to  settle  the  origin  and  nature  of  sin,  the  final  destiny  of 
souls,  and  the  whole  plan  of  the  Causal  Spirit  with  regard  to  them. 
I  think  those  who  take  your  view  have  not  examined  themselves, 
and  do  not  know  the  ground  on  which  they  stand. 

I  acknowledge  no  limit,  set  up  by  man's  opinion,  as  to  the  ca 
pacities  of  man.  "  Care  is  taken,"  I  see  it,  "  that  the  trees  grow 
not  up  into  heaven  "  ;  but,  to  me  it  seems,  the  more  vigorously  they 
aspire,  the  better.  Only  let  it  be  a  vigorous,  not  a  partial  or 
sickly  aspiration.  Let  not  the  tree  forget  its  root. 

So  long  as  the  child  insists  on  knowing  where  its  dead  parent 
is,  so  long  as  bright  eyes  weep  at  mysterious  pressures,  too  heavy 
for  the  life,  so  long  as  that  impulse  is  constantly  arising  which 
made  the  Roman  emperor  address  his  soul  in  a  strain  of  such 
touching  softness,  vanishing  from  the  thought,  as  the  column  of 
smoke  from  the  eye,  I  know  of  no  inquiry  which  the  impulse  of 
man  suggests  that  is  forbidden  to  the  resolution  of  man  to  pursue. 
In  every  inquiry,  unless  sustained  by  a  pure  and  reverent  spirit, 
he  gropes  in  the  dark,  or  falls  headlong. 

Self-Poise.     All  this  may  be  very  true,  but  what  is  the  use  of 


DIALOGUE.  73 

all  this  straining  ?  Far-sought  is  dear-bought.  When  we  know 
that  all  is  in  each,  and  that  the  ordinary  contains  the  extra 
ordinary,  why  should  we  play  the  baby,  and  insist  upon  having 
the  moon  for  a  toy  when  a  tin  dish  will  do  as  well  ?  Our  deep 
ignorance  is  a  chasm  that  we  can  only  fill  up  by  degrees,  but  the 
commonest  rubbish  will  help  us  as  well  as  shred  silk.  The  god 
Brahma,  while  on  earth,  was  set  to  fill  up  a  valley,  but  he  had 
only  a  basket  given  him  in  which  to  fetch  earth  for  this  purpose  ; 
so  is  it  with  us  all.  No  leaps,  no  starts,  will  avail  us  ;  by  patient 
crystallization  alone,  the  equal  temper  of  wisdom  is  attainable. 
Sit  at  home,  and  the  spirit-world  will  look  in  at  your  window  with 
moonlit  eyes ;  run  out  to  find  it,  and  rainbow  and  golden  cup  will 
have  vanished,  and  left  you  the  beggarly  child  you  were.  The 
better  part  of  wisdom  is  a  sublime  prudence,  a  pure  and  patient 
truth,  that  will  receive  nothing  it  is  not  sure  it  can  permanently 
lay  to  heart.  Of  our  study,  there  should  be  in  proportion  two 
thirds  of  rejection  to  one  of  acceptance.  And,  amid  the  manifold 
infatuations  and  illusions  of  this  world  of  emotion,  a  being  capable 
of  clear  intelligence  can  do  no  better  service  than  to  hold  himself 
upright,  avoid  nonsense,  and  do  what  chores  lie  in  his  way,  ac 
knowledging  every  moment  that  primal  truth,  which  no  fact  ex 
hibits,  nor,  if  pressed  by  too  warm  a  hope,  will  even  indicate.  I 
think,  indeed,  it  is  part  of  our  lesson  to  give  a  formal  consent  to 
what  is  farcical,  and  to  pick  up  our  living  and  our  virtue  amid 
what  is  so  ridiculous,  hardly  deigning  a  smile,  and  certainly  not 
vexed.  The  work  is  done  through  all,  if  not  by  every  one. 

Free  Hope.  Thou  art  greatly  wise,  my  friend,  and  ever  re 
spected  by  me,  yet  I  find  not  in  your  theory  or  your  scope  room 
enough  for  the  lyric  inspirations  or  the  mysterious  whispers  of 
life.  To  me  it  seems  that  it  is  madder  never  to  abandon  one's  self, 
than  often  to  be  infatuated ;  better  to  be  wounded,  a  captive,  and 
a  slave,  than  always  to  walk  in  armor.  As  to  magnetism,  that  is 
only  a  matter  of  fancy.  You  sometimes  need  just  such  a  field  in 
which  to  wander  vagrant,  and  if  it  bear  a  higher  name,  yet  it  may 
be  that,  in  last  result,  the  trance  of  Pythagoras  might  be  classed 
with  the  more  infantine  transports  of  the  Seeress  of  Prevorst. 
7 


74  SUMMER    ON    THE    LAKES. 

What  is  done  interests  me  more  than  what  is  thought  and  sup 
posed.  Every  fact  is  impure,  but  every  fact  contains  in  it  the 
juices  of  life.  Every  fact  is  a  clod,  from  which  may  grow  an 
amaranth  or  a  palm. 

Climb  you  the  snowy  peaks  whence  come  the  streams,  where 
the  atmosphere  is  rare,  where  you  can  see  the  sky  nearer,  from 
which  you  can  get  a  commanding  view  of  the  landscape  ?  I  see 
great  disadvantages  as  well  as  advantages  in  this  dignified  po 
sition.  I  had  rather  walk  myself  through  all  kinds  of  places,  even 
at  the  risk  of  being  robbed  in  the  forest,  half  drowned  at  the  ford, 
and  covered  with  dust  in  the  street. 

I  would  beat  with  the  living  heart  of  the  world,  and  understand 
all  the  moods,  even  the  fancies  or  fantasies,  of  nature.  I  dare  to 
trust  to  the  interpreting  spirit  to  bring  me  out  all  right  at  last,  — 
establish  truth  through  error. 

Whether  this  be  the  best  way  is  of  no  consequence,  if  it  be  the 
one  individual  character  points  out. 

For  one,  like  me,  it  would  be  vain 

From  glittering  heights  the  eyes  to  strain ; 

I  the  truth  can  only  know, 

Tested  by  life's  most  fiery  glow. 

Seeds  of  thought  will  never  thrive, 

Till  dews  of  love  shall  bid  them  live. 

Let  me  stand  in  my  age  with  all  its  waters  flowing  round  me. 
If  they  sometimes  subdue,  they  must  finally  upbear  me,  for  I  seek 
the  universal,  —  and  that  must  be  the  best. 

The  Spirit,  no  doubt,  leads  in  every  movement  of  my  time  :  if 
I  seek  the  How,  I  shall  find  it,  as  well  as  if  I  busied  myself  more 
with  the  Why. 

Whatever  is,  is  right,  if  only  men  are  steadily  bent  to  make  it 
so,  by  comprehending  and  fulfilling  its  design. 

May  not  I  have  an  office,  too,  in  my  hospitality  and  ready  sym 
pathy  ?  If  I  sometimes  entertain  guests  who  cannot  pay  with 
gold  coin,  with  "  fair  rose  nobles,"  that  is  better  than  to  lose  the 
chance  of  entertaining  angels  unawares. 

You,  my  three  friends,  are  held  in  heart-honor,  by  me.     You, 


MILWAUKIE.  75 

especially,  Good  Sense,  because  where  you  do  not  go  yourself, 
you  do  not  object  to  another's  going,  if  he  will.  You  are  really 
liberal.  You,  Old  Church,  are  of  use,  by  keeping  unfbrgot  the 
effigies  of  old  religion,  and  reviving  the  tone  of  pure  Spenserian 
sentiment,  which  this  time  is  apt  to  stifle  in  its  childish  haste. 
But  you  are  very  faulty  in  censuring  and  wishing  to  limit  others 
by  your  own  standard.  You,  Self- Poise,  fill  a  priestly  office. 
Could  but  a  larger  intelligence  of  the  vocations  of  others,  and  a 
tender  sympathy  with  their  individual  natures,  be  added,  had  you 
more  of  love,  or  more  of  apprehensive  genius,  (for  either  would 
give  you  the  needed  expansion  and  delicacy,)  you  would  command 
my  entire  reverence.  As  it  is,  I  must  at  times  deny  and  oppose 
you,  and  so  must  others,  for  you  tend,  by  your  influence,  to  ex 
clude  us  from  our  full,  free  life.  We  must  be  content  when  you 
censure,  and  rejoiced  when  you  approve ;  always  admonished  to 
good  by  your  whole  being,  and  sometimes  by  your  judgment. 


Do  not  blame  me  that  I  have  written  so  much  suggested  by 
the  German  seeress,  while  you  were  looking  for  news  of  the  West. 
Here  on  the  pier,  I  see  disembarking  the  Germans,  the  Norwe 
gians,  the  Swedes,  the  Swiss.  Who  knows  how  much  of  old 
legendary  lore,  of  modern  wonder,  they  have  already  planted 
amid  the  Wisconsin  forests  ?  Soon,  their  tales  of  the  origin  of 
things,  and  the  Providence  which  rules  them,  will  be  so  mingled 
with  those  of  the  Indian,  that  the  very  oak-tree  will  not  know 
them  apart,  —  will  not  know  whether  itself  be  a  Runic,  a  Druid, 
or  a  Winnebago  oak. 

Some  seeds  of  all  growths  that  have  ever  been  known  in  this 
world  might,  no  doubt,  already  be  found  in  these  Western  wilds, 
if  we  had  the  power  to  call  them  to  life. 

I  saw,  in  the  newspaper,  that  the  American  Tract  Society 
boasted  of  their  agent's  having  exchanged,  at  a  Western  cabin 
door,  tracts  for  the  "  Devil  on  Two  Sticks,"  and  then  burnt  that 
more  entertaining  than  edifying  volume.  No  wonder,  though, 
they  study  it  there.  Could  one  but  have  the  gift  of  reading  the 


7G  SUMMER    ON    THE    LAKES. 

dreams  dreamed  by  men  of  such  various  birth,  various  history, 
various  mind,  it  would  afford  much  more  extensive  amusement 
than  did  the  chambers  of  one  Spanish  city  ! 

Could  I  but  have  flown  at  night  through  such  mental  experi 
ences,  instead  of  being  shut  up  in  my  little  bedroom  at  the  Mil- 
waukie  boarding-house,  this  chapter  would  have  been  worth  read 
ing.  As  it  is,  let  us  hasten  to  a  close. 

Had  I  been  rich  in  money,  I  might  have  built  a  house,  or  set 
up  in  business,  during  my  fortnight's  stay  at  Milwaukee,  matters 
move  on  there  at  so  rapid  a  rate.  But  being  only  rich  in  curi 
osity,  I  was  obliged  to  walk  the  streets  and  pick  up  what  I  could 
in  casual  intercourse.  When  I  left  the  street,  indeed,  and  walked 
on  the  bluffs, -or  sat  beside  the  lake  in  their  shadow,  my  mind  was 
rich  in  dreams  congenial  to  the  scene,  some  time  to  be  realized, 
though  not  by  me. 

A  boat  was  left,  keel  up,  half  on  the  sand,  half  in  the  water, 
swaying  with  each  swell  of  the  lake.  It  gave  a  picturesque  grace 
to  that  part  of  the  shore,  as  the  only  image  of  inaction,  —  only  ob 
ject  of  a  pensive  character  to  be  seen.  Near  this  I  sat,  to  dream 
my  dreams  and  watch  the  colors  of  the  lake,  changing  hourly,  till 
the  sun  sank.  These  hours  yielded  impulses,  wove  webs,  such  as 
life  will  not  again  afford. 

Returning  to  the  boarding-house,  which  was  also  a  boarding- 
school,  we  were  sure  to  be  greeted  by  gay  laughter. 

This  school  was  conducted  by  two  girls  of  nineteen  and  seven 
teen  years  ;  their  pupils  were  nearly  as  old  as  themselves.  The 
relation  seemed  very  pleasant  between  them ;  the  only  superiority 
—  that  of  superior  knowledge  —  was  sufficient  to  maintain  au 
thority,  —  all  the  authority  that  was  needed  to  keep  daily  life  in 
good  order. 

In  the  West,  people  are  not  respected  merely  because  they  are 
old  in  years ;  people  there  have  not  time  to  keep  up  appearances 
in  that  way ;  when  persons  cease  to  have  a  real  advantage  in  wis 
dom,  knowledge,  or  enterprise,  they  must  stand  back,  and  let  those 
who  are  oldest  in  character  "  go  ahead,"  however  few  years  they 
may  count.  There  are  no  banks  of  established  respectability  in 


MILWAUKIE.  77 

which  to  bury  the  talent  there  ;  no  napkin  of  precedent  in  which 
to  wrap  it.  What  cannot  be  made  to  pass  current,  is  not  es 
teemed  coin  of  the  realm. 

To  the  windows  of  this  house,  where  the  daughter  of  a  famous 
"  Indian  fighter,"  i.  e.  fighter  against  the  Indians,  was  learning 
French  and  the  piano,  came  wild,  tawny  figures,  offering  for  sale 
their  baskets  of  berries.  The  boys  now,  instead  of  brandishing 
the  tomahawk,  tame  their  hands  to  pick  raspberries. 

Here  the  evenings  were  much  lightened  by  the  gay  chat  of  one 
of  the  party,  who  with  the  excellent  practical  sense  of  mature  ex 
perience,  and  the  kindest  heart,  united  a  naivete  and  innocence 
such  as  I  never  saw  in  any  other  who  had  walked  so  long  life's  tan 
gled  path.  Like  a  child,  she  was  everywhere  at  home,  and,  like  a 
child,  received  and  bestowed  entertainment  from  all  places,  all 
persons.  I  thanked  her  for  making  me  laugh,  as  did  the  sick 
and  poor,  whom  she  was  sure  to  find  out  in  her  briefest  sojourn 
in  any  place,  for  more  substantial  aid.  Happy  are  those  who 
never  grieve,  and  so  often  aid  and  enliven  their  fellow-men  ! 

This  scene,  however,  I  was  not  sorry  to  exchange  for  the  much 
celebrated  beauties  of  the  island  of  Mackinaw. 


7* 


CHAPTEE    VI. 

MACKINAW. INDIANS.  —  INDIAN     WOMEN. EVERETT'S    RE 
CEPTION  OF  CHIEFS. UNFITNESS    OF  INDIAN    MISSIONARIES. 

OUR   DUTIES    TOWARD    THIS    RACE. 

LATE  at  night  we  reached  this  island  of  Mackinaw,  so  famous 
for  its  beauty,  and  to  which  I  proposed  a  visit  of  some  length.  It 
was  the  last  week  in  August,  at  which  time  a  large  representation 
from  the  Chippewa  and  Ottawa  tribes  are  here  to  receive  their 
annual  payments  from  the  American  government.  As  their  hab 
its  make  travelling  easy  and  inexpensive  to  them,  neither  being 
obliged  to  wait  for  steamboats,  or  write  to  see  whether  hotels  are 
full,  they  come  hither  by  thousands,  and  those  thousands  in  fami 
lies,  secure  of  accommodation  on  the  beach,  and  food  from  the 
lake,  to  make  a  long  holiday  out  of  the  occasion.  There  were 
near  two  thousand  encamped  on  the  island  already,  and  more  ar 
riving  every  day. 

As  our  boat  came  in,  the  captain  had  some  rockets  let  off. 
This  greatly  excited  the  Indians,  and  their  yells  and  wild  cries 
resounded  along  the  shore.  Except  for  the  momentary  flash  of 
the  rockets,  it  was  perfectly  dark,  and  my  sensations  as  I  walked 
with  a  stranger  to  a  strange  hotel,  through  the  midst  of  these 
shrieking  savages,  and  heard  the  pants  and  snorts  of  the  depart 
ing  steamer,  which  carried  away  all  my  companions,  were  some 
what  of  the  dismal  sort ;  though  it  was  pleasant,  too,  in  the  way 
that  everything  strange  is  ;  everything  that  breaks  in  upon  the 
routine  that  so  easily  incrusts  us. 

I  had  reason  to  expect  a  room  to  myself  at  the  hotel,  but  found 
none,  and  was  obliged  to  take  up  my  rest  in  the  common  parlor 


MACKINAW.  79 

and  eating-room,  a  circumstance  which  insured  my  being  an  early- 
riser. 

With  the  first  rosy  streak,  I  was  out  among  my  Indian  neigh 
bors,  whose  lodges  honeycombed  the  beautiful  beach,  that  curved 
away  in  long,  fair  outline  on  either  side  the  house.  They  were 
already  on  the  alert,  the  children  creeping  out  from  beneath  the 
blanket  door  of  the  lodge,  the  women  pounding  corn  in  their 
rude  mortars,  the  young  men  playing  on  their  pipes.  I  had 
been  much  amused,  when  the  strain  proper  to  the  Winnebago 
courting  flute  was  played  to  me  on  another  instrument,  at  any 
one  fancying  it  a  melody ;  but  now,  when  I  heard  the  notes  in 
their  true  tone  and  time,  I  thought  it  not  unworthy  comparison,  in 
its  graceful  sequence,  and  the  light  flourish  at  the  close,  with  the 
sweetest  bird-song  ;  and  this,  like  the  bird-song,  is  only  practised 
to  allure  a  mate.  The  Indian,  become  a  citizen  and  a  husband, 
no  more  thinks  of  playing  the  flute,  than  one  of  the  "  settled- 
down  "  members  of  our  society  would  of  choosing  the  "  purple 
light  of  love  "  as  dye-stuff  for  a  surtout. 

Mackinaw  has  been  fully  described  by  able  pens,  and  I  can 
only  add  my  tribute  to  the  exceeding  beauty  of  the  spot  and  its 
position.  It  is  charming  to  be  on  an  island  so  small  that  you  can 
sail  round  it  in  an  afternoon,  yet  large  enough  to  admit  of  long, 
secluded  walks  through  its  gentle  groves.  You  can  go  round  it 
in  your  boat ;  or,  on  foot,  you  can  tread  its  narrow  beach,  resting, 
at  times,  beneath  the  lofty  walls  of  stone,  richly  wooded,  which 
rise  from  it  in  various  architectural  forms.  In  this  stone,  caves 
are  continually  forming,  from  the  action  of  the  atmosphere  ;  one 
of  these  is  quite  deep,  and  a  rocky  fragment  left  at  its  mouth, 
wreathed  with  little  creeping  plants,  looks,  as  you  sit  within,  like 
a  ruined  pillar. 

The  arched  rock  surprised  me,  much  as  I  had  heard  of  it,  from 
the  perfection  of  the  arch.  It  is  perfect,  whether  you  look  up 
through  it  from  the  lake,  or  down  through  it  to  the  transparent 
waters.  We  both  ascended  and  descended  —  no  very  easy  matter 
—  the  steep  and  crumbling  path,  and  rested  at  the  summit,  beneath 
the  trees,  and  at  the  foot,  upon  the  cool,  mossy  stones  beside  the 


80  SUMMER    ON    THE    LAKES. 

lapsing  wave.  Nature  has  carefully  decorated  all  this  architec 
ture  with  shrubs  that  take  root  within  the  crevices,  and  small 
creeping  vines.  These  natural  ruins  may  vie  for  beautiful  effect 
with  the  remains  of  European  grandeur,  and  have,  beside,  a  charm 
as  of  a  playful  mood  in  Nature. 

The  sugar-loaf  rock  is  a  fragment  in  the  same  kind  as  the  pine 
rock  we  saw  in  Illinois.  It  has  the  same  air  of  a  helmet,  as  seen 
from  an  eminence  at  the  side,  which  you  descend  by  a  long  and 
steep  path.  The  rock  itself  may  be  ascended  by  the  bold  and 
agile  :  half-way  up  is  a  niche,  to  which  those  who  are  neither 
can  climb  by  a  ladder.  A  very  handsome  young  officer  and  lady 
who  were  with  us  did  so,  and  then,  facing  round,  stood  there  side 
by  side,  looking  in  the  niche,  if  not  like  saints  or  angels  wrought 
by  pious  hands  in  stone,  as  romantically,  if  not  as  holily,  worthy 
the  gazer's  eye. 

The  woods  which  adorn  the  central  ridge  of  the  island  are  very 
full  in  foliage,  and,  in  August,  showed  the  tender  green  and  pliant 
leaf  of  June  elsewhere.  They  are  rich  in  beautiful  mosses  and 
the  wild  raspberry. 

From  Fort  Holmes,  the  old  fort,  we  had  the  most  commanding 
view  of  the  lake  and  straits,  opposite  shores,  and  fair  islets. 
Mackinaw  itself  is  best  seen  from  the  water.  Its  peculiar  shape 
is  supposed  to  have  been  the  origin  of  its  name,  Michilimackinac, 
which  means  the  Great  Turtle.  One  person  whom  I  saw  wished 
to  establish  another  etymology,  which  he  fancied  to  be  more  re 
fined  ;  but,  I  doubt  not,  this  is  the  true  one,  both  because  the 
shape  might  suggest  such  a  name,  and  the  existence  of  an  island 
of  such  form  in  this  commanding  position  would  seem  a  signifi 
cant  fact  to  the  Indians.  For  Henry  gives  the  details  of  pe 
culiar  worship  paid  to  the  Great  Turtle,  and  the  oracles  re 
ceived  from  this  extraordinary  Apollo  of  the  Indian  Delphos. 

It  is  crowned,  most  picturesquely,  by  the  white  fort,  with  its  gay 
flag.  From  this,  on  one  side,  stretches  the  town.  How  pleasing 
a  sight,  after  the  raw,  crude,  staring  assemblage  of  houses  every 
where  else  to  be  met  in  this  country,  is  an  old  French  town,  mel 
low  in  its  coloring,  and  with  the  harmonious  effect  of  a  slow 


INDIANS.  81 

growth,  which  assimilates,  naturally,  with  objects  round  it !  The 
people  in  its  streets,  Indian,  French,  half-breeds,  and  others, 
walked  with  a  leisure  step,  as  of  those  who  live  a  life  of  taste 
and  inclination,  rather  than  of  the  hard  press  of  business,  as  in 
American  towns  elsewhere. 

On  the  other  side,  along  the  fair,  curving  beach,  below  the 
white  houses  scattered  on  the  declivity,  clustered  the  Indian 
lodges,  with  their  amber-brown  matting,  so  soft  and  bright  of 
hue,  in  the  late  afternoon  sun.  The  first  afternoon  I  was  there, 
looking  down  from  a  near  height,  I  felt  that  I  never  wished  to 
see  a  more  fascinating  picture.  It  was  an  hour  of  the  deepest 
serenity  ;  bright  blue  and  gold,  with  rich  shadows.  Every  moment 
the  sunlight  fell  more  mellow.  The  Indians  were  grouped  and 
scattered  among  the  lodges  ;  the  women  preparing  food,  in  the 
kettle  or  frying-pan,  over  the  many  small  fires;  the  children,  half 
naked,  wild  as  little  goblins,  were  playing  both  in  and  out  of  the 
water.  Here  and  there  lounged  a  young  girl,  with  a  baby  at  her 
back,  whose  bright  eyes  glanced,  as  if  born  into  a  world  of  cour 
age  and  of  joy,  instead  of  ignominious  servitude  and  slow  decay. 
Some  girls  were  cutting  wood,  a  little  way  from  me,  talking  and 
laughing,  in  the  low  musical  tone,  so  charming  in  the  Indian 
women.  Many  bark  canoes  were  upturned  upon  the  beach,  and, 
by  that  light,  of  almost  the  same  amber  as  the  lodges  ;  others 
coming  in,  their  square  sails  set,  and  with  almost  arrowy  speed, 
though  heavily  laden  with  dusky  forms,  and  all  the  apparatus  of 
their  household.  Here  and  there  a  sail-boat  glided  by,  with  a 
different  but  scarce  less  pleasing  motion. 

It  was  a  scene  of  ideal  loveliness,  and  these  wild  forms  adorned 
it,  as  looking  so  at  home  in  it.  All  seemed  happy,  and  they 
were  happy  that  day,  for  they  had  no  fire-water  to  madden  them, 
as  it  was  Sunday,  and  the  shops  were  shut. 

From  my  window,  at  the  boarding-house,  my  eye  was  con 
stantly  attracted  by  these  picturesque  groups.  I  was  never  tired 
of  seeing  the  canoes  come  in,  and  the  new  arrivals  set  up  their 
temporary  dwellings.  The  women  ran  to  set  up  the  tent-poles, 
and  spread  the  mats  on  the  ground.  The  men  brought  the 


82  SUMMER    ON    THE    LAKES. 

chests  kettles,  &c. ;  the  mats  were  then  laid  on  the  outside,  the 
cedar-boughs  strewed  on  the  ground,  the  blanket  hung  up  for  a 
door,  and  all  was  completed  in  less  than  twenty  minutes.  Then 
they  began  to  prepare  the  night  meal,  and  to  learn  of  their  neigh 
bors  the  news  of  the  day. 

The  habit  of  preparing  food  out  of  doors  gave  all  the  gypsy 
charm  and  variety  to  their  conduct.  Continually  I  wanted  Sir 
Walter  Scott  to  have  been  there.  If  such  romantic  sketches 
were  suggested  to  him,  by  the  sight  of  a  few  gypsies,  not  a  group 
•near  one  of  these  fires  but  would  have  furnished  him  material  for 
a  separate  canvas.  I  was  so  taken  up  with  the  spirit  of  the 
scene,  that  I  could  not  follow  out  the  stories  suggested  by  these 
weather-beaten,  sullen,  but  eloquent  figures. 

They  talked  a  great  deal,  and  with  much  variety  of  gesture,  so 
that  I  often  had  a  good  guess  at  the  meaning  of  their  discourse. 
I  saw  that,  whatever  the  Indian  may  be  among  the  whites,  he  is 
anything  but  taciturn  with  his  own  people ;  and  he  often  would 
declaim,  or  narrate  at  length.  Indeed,  it  is  obvious,  if  only  from 
the  fables  taken  from  their  stores  by  Mr.  Schoolcraft,  that  these 
tribes  possess  great  power  that  way. 

I  liked  very  much  to  walk  or  sit  among  them.  With  the 
women  I  held  much  communication  by  signs.  They  are  almost 
invariably  coarse  and  ugly,  with  the  exception  of  their  eyes,  with 
a  peculiarly  awkward  gait,  and  forms  bent  by  burdens.  This 
gait,  so  different  from  the  steady  and  noble  step  of  the  men, 
marks  the  inferior  position  they  occupy.  I  had  heard  much 
eloquent  contradiction  of  this.  Mrs.  Schoolcraft  had  maintained 
to  a  friend,  that  they  were  in  fact  as  nearly  on  a  par  with  their 
husbands  as  the  white  woman  with  hers.  "  Although,"  said  she, 
"  on  account  of  inevitable  causes,  the  Indian  woman  is  subjected 
to  many  hardships  of  a  peculiar  nature,  yet  her  position,  compared 
with  that  of  the  man,  is  higher  and  freer  than  that  of  the  white 
woman.  Why  will  people  look  only  on  one  side  ?  They  either 
exalt  the  red  man  into  a  demigod,  or  degrade  him  into  a  beast. 
They  say  that  he  compels  his  wife  to  do  all  the  drudgery,  while 
he  does  nothing  but  hunt  and  amuse  himself;  forgetting  that 


INDIAN    WOMEN.  83 

upon  his  activity  and  power  of  endurance  as  a  hunter  depends 
the  support  of  his  family ;  that  this  is  labor  of  the  most  fatiguing 
kind,  and  that  it  is  absolutely  necessary  that  he  should  keep  his 
frame  unbent  by  burdens  and  unworn  by  toil,  that  he  may  be 
able  to  obtain  the  means  of  subsistence.  I  have  witnessed  scenes 
of  conjugal  and  parental  love  in  the  Indian's  wigwam,  from  which 
I  have  often,  often  thought  the  educated  white  man,  proud  of  his 
superior  civilization,  might  learn  a  useful  lesson.  When  he 
returns  from  hunting,  worn  out  with  fatigue,  having  tasted  noth 
ing  since  dawn,  his  wife,  if  she  is  a  good  wife,  will  take  off  his 
moccasons  and  replace  them  with  dry  ones,  and  will  prepare  his 
game  for  their  repast,  while  his  children  will  climb  upon  him,  and 
he  will  caress  them  with  all  the  tenderness  of  a  woman  ;  and  in  the 
evening  the  Indian  wigwam  is  the  scene  of  the  purest  domestic 
pleasures.  The  father  will  relate,  for  the  amusement  of  the  wife 
and  for  the  instruction  of  the  children,  all  the  events  of  the  day's 
hunt,  while  they  will  treasure  up  every  word  that  falls,  and  thus 
learn  the  theory  of  the  art  whose  practice  is  to  be  the  occupa 
tion  of  their  lives." 

Mrs.  Grant  speaks  thus  of  the  position  of  woman  amid  the 
Mohawk  Indians  :  — 

"  Lady  Mary  Montague  says,  that  the  court  of  Vienna  was  the 
paradise  of  old  women,  and  that  there  is  no  other  place  in  the 
world  where  a  woman  past  fifty  excites  the  least  interest.  Had 
her  travels  extended  to  the  interior  of  North  America,  she  would 
have  seen  another  instance  of  this  inversion  of  the  common  mode 
of  thinking.  Here  a  woman  never  was  of  consequence,  till  she 
had  a  son  old  enough  to  fight  the  battles  of  his  country.  From 
that  date  she  held  a  superior  rank  in  society ;  was  allowed  to 
live  at  ease,  and  even  called  to  consultations  on  national  affairs. 
In  savage  and  warlike  countries,  the  reign  of  beauty  is  very 
short,  and  its  influence  comparatively  limited.  The  girls  in  child 
hood  had  a  very  pleasing  appearance ;  but  excepting  their  fine 
hair,  eyes,  and  teeth,  every  external  grace  was  soon  banished  by 
perpetual  drudgery,  carrying  burdens  too  heavy  to  be  borne,  and 
other  slavish  employments,  considered  beneath  the  dignity  of  the 


84  SUMMER    ON   THE    LAKES. 

men.  These  walked  before,  erect  and  graceful,  decked  with  orna 
ments  which  set  off  to  advantage  the  symmetry  of  their  well- 
formed  persons,  while  the  poor  women  followed,  meanly  attired, 
bent  under  the  weight  of  the  children  and  the  utensils,  which 
they  carried  everywhere  with  them,  and  disfigured  and  degraded 
by  ceaseless  toils.  They  were  very  early  married,  for  a  Mohawk 
had  no  other  servant  but  his  wife  ;  and  whenever  he  commenced 
hunter,  it  was  requisite  he  should  have  some  one  to  carry  his 
load,  cook  his  kettle,  make  his  moccasons,  and,  above  all,  produce 
the  young  warriors  who  were  to  succeed  him  in  the  honors  of  the 
chase  and  of  the  tomahawk.  Wherever  man  is  a  mere  hunter, 
woman  is  a  mere  slave.  It  is  domestic  intercourse  that  softens 
man,  and  elevates  woman  ;  and  of  that  there  can  be  but  little, 
where  the  employments  and  amusements  are  not  in  common.  The 
ancient  Caledonians  honored  the  fair;  but  then  it  is  to  be  ob 
served,  they  were  fair  huntresses,  and  moved  in  the  light  of  their 
beauty  to  the  hill  of  roes ;  and  the  culinary  toils  were  entirely 
left  to  the  rougher  sex.  When  the  young  warrior  made  his  ap 
pearance,  it  softened  the.  cares  of  his  mother,  who  well  knew  that, 
when  he  grew  up,  every  deficiency  in  tenderness  to  his  wife  would 
be  made  up  in  superabundant  duty  and  affection  to  her.  If  it 
were  possible  to  carry  filial  veneration  to  excess,  it  was  done 
here ;  for  all  other  charities  were  absorbed  in  it.  I  wonder  this 
system  of  depressing  the  sex  in  their  early  years,  to  exalt  them 
when  all  their  juvenile  attractions  are  flown,  and  when  mind 
alone  can  distinguish  them,  has  not  occurred  to  our  modern  re 
formers.  The  Mohawks  took  good  care  not  to  admit  their  women 
to  share  their  prerogatives,  tiH  they  approved  themselves  good 
wives  and  mothers." 

The  observations  of  women  upon  the  position  of  woman  are 
always  more  valuable  than  those  of  men;  but,  of  these  two, 
Mrs.  Grant's  seem  much  nearer  the  truth  than  Mrs.  Schoolcraft's, 
because,  though  her  opportunities  for  observation  did  not  bring 
her  so  close,  she  looked  more  at  both  sides  to  find  the  truth. 

Carver,  in  his  travels  among  the  Winnebagoes,  describes  two 
queens,  one  nominally  so,  like  Queen  Victoria ;  the  other  invested 
Aith  a  genuine  royalty,  springing  from  her  own  conduct. 


INDIAN    WOMEN.  85 

In  the  great  town  of  the  Winnebagoes,  he  found  a  queen 
presiding  over  the  tribe,  instead  of  a  sachem.  He  adds,  that, 
in  some  tribes,  the  descent  is  given  to  the  female  line  in  prefer 
ence  to  the  male,  that  is,  a  sister's  son  will  succeed  to  the  au 
thority,  rather  than  a  brother's  son.  The  position  of  this  Winne- 
bago  queen  reminded  me  forcibly  of  Queen  Victoria's. 

"  She  sat  in  the  council,  but  only  asked  a  few  questions,  or 
gave  some  trifling  directions  in  matters  relative  to  the  state,  for 
women  are  never  allowed  to  sit  in  their  councils,  except  they 
happen  to  be  invested  with  the  supreme  authority,  and  then  it  is 
not  customary  for  them  to  make  any  formal  speeches,  as  the 
chiefs  do.  She  was  a  very  ancient  woman,  small  in  stature,  and 
not  much  distinguished  by  her  dress  from  several  young  women 
that  attended  her.  These,  her  attendants,  seemed  greatly  pleased 
whenever  I  showed  any  tokens  of  respect  to  their  queen,  espe 
cially  when  I  saluted  her,  which  I  frequently  did  to  acquire  her 
favor." 

The  other  was  a  woman,  who,  being  taken  captive,  found  means 
to  kill  her  captor,  and  make  her  escape  ;  and  the  tribe  were  so 
struck  with  admiration  at  the  courage  and  calmness  she  dis 
played  on  the  occasion,  as  to  make  her  chieftainess  in  her  own 
right. 

Notwithstanding  the  homage  paid  to  women,  and  the  conse 
quence  allowed  them  in  some  cases,  it  is  impossible  to  look  upon 
the  Indian  women  without  feeling  that  they  do  occupy  a  lower 
place  than  women  among  the  nations  of  European  civilization. 
The  habits  of  drudgery  expressed  in  their  form  and  gesture,  the 
soft  and  wild  but  melancholy  expression  of  their  eye,  reminded 
me  of  the  tribe  mentioned  by  Mackenzie,  where  the  women  de 
stroy  their  female  children,  whenever  they  have  a  good  oppor 
tunity  ;  and  of  the  eloquent  reproaches  addressed  by  the  Paraguay 
woman  to  her  mother,  that  she  had  not,  in  the  same  way,  saved 
her  from  the  anguish  and  weariness  of  her  lot. 

More  weariness  than  anguish,  no  doubt,  falls  to  the  lot  of  most 
of  these  women.  They  inherit  submission,  and  the  minds  of  the 
generality  accommodate  themselves  more  or  less  to  any  posture. 
8 


86  SUMMER    ON    THE    LAKES. 

Perhaps  they  suffer  less  than  their  white  sisters,  who  have  more 
aspiration  and  refinement,  with  little  power  of  self-sustenance. 
But  their  place  is  certainly  lower,  and  their  share  of  the  human 
inheritance  less. 

Their  decorum  and  delicacy  are  striking,  and  show  that,  when 
these  are  native  to  the  mind,  no  habits  of  life  make  any  differ 
ence.  Their  whole  gesture  is  timid,  yet  self-possessed.  They 
used  to  crowd  round  me,  to  inspect  little  things  I  had  to  show 
them,  but  never  press  near ;  on  the  contrary,  would  reprove 
and  keep  off  the  children.  Anything  they  took  from  my  hand 
was  held  with  care,  then  shut  or  folded,  and  returned  with  an  air 
of  lady-like  precision.  They  would  not  stare,  however  curious 
they  might  be,  but  cast  sidelong  glances. 

A  locket  that  I  wore  was  an  object  of  untiring  interest ;  they 
seemed  to  regard  it  as  a  talisman.  My  little  sun-shade  was  still 
more  fascinating  to  them  ;  apparently  they  had  never  before  seen 
one.  For  an  umbrella  they  entertained  profound  regard,  prob 
ably  looking  upon  it  as  the  most  luxurious  superfluity  a  person 
can  possess,  and  therefore  a  badge  of  great  wealth.  I  used  to 
see  an  old  squaw,  whose  sullied  skin  and  coarse,  tanned  locks 
told  that  she  had  braved  sun  and  storm,  without  a  doubt  or  care, 
for  sixty  years  at  least,  sitting  gravely  at  the  door  of  her  lodge, 
with  an  old  green  umbrella  over  her  head,  happy  for  hours  to 
gether  in  the  dignified  shade.  For  her  happiness  pomp  came 
not,  as  it  so  often  does,  too  late ;  she  received  it  with  grateful  en 
joyment. 

One  day,  as  I  was  seated  on  one  of  the  canoes,  a  woman  came 
and  sat  beside  me,  with  her  baby  in  its  cradle  set  up  at  her  feet. 
She  asked  me  by  a  gesture  to  let  her  take  my  sun-shade,  and 
then  to  show  her  how  to  open  it.  Then  she  put  it  into  her  baby's 
hand,  and  held  it  over  its  head,  looking  at  me  the  while  with  a 
sweet,  mischievous  laugh,  as  much  as  to  say,  "  You  carry  a  tiling 
that  is  only  fit  for  a  baby."  Her  pantomime  was  very  pretty. 
She,  like  the  other  women,  had  a  glance,  and  shy,  sweet  expres 
sion  in  the  eye  ;  the  men  have  a  steady  gaze. 

That  noblest  and  loveliest  of  modern   Preux,  Lord  Edward 


INDIAN    WOMEN.  87 

Fitzgerald,  who  came  through  Buffalo  to  Detroit  and  Mackinaw, 
with  Brant,  and  was  adopted  into  the  Bear  tribe  by  the  name  of 
Eghnidal,  was  struck  in  the  same  way  by  the  delicacy  of  man 
ners  in  women.  He  says  :  "  Notwithstanding  the  life  they  lead, 
which  would  make  most  women  rough  and  masculine,  they  are  as 
soft,  meek,  and  modest  as  the  best  brought  up  girls  in  England. 
Somewhat  coquettish  too  !  Imagine  the  manners  of  Mimi  in  a 
poor  squaw,  that  has  been  carrying  packs  in  the  woods  all  her 
life." 

McKenney  mentions  that  the  young  wife,  during  the  short 
bloom  of  her  beauty,  is  an  object  of  homage  and  tenderness  to 
her  husband.  One  Indian  woman,  the  Flying  Pigeon,  a  beauti 
ful  and  excellent  person,  of  whom  he  gives  some  particulars,  is 
an  instance  of  the  power  uncommon  characters  will  always  exert 
of  breaking  down  the  barriers  custom  has  erected  round  them. 
She  captivated  by  her  charms,  and  inspired  her  husband  and 
son  with  reverence  for  her  character.  The  simple  praise  with 
which  the  husband  indicates  the  religion,  the  judgment,  and  the 
generosity  he  saw  in  her,  are  as  satisfying  as  Count  Zinzendorf 's 
more  labored  eulogium  on  his  "  noble  consort."  The  conduct  of 
her  son,  when,  many  years  after  her  death,  he  saw  her  picture  at 
Washington,  is  unspeakably  affecting.  Catlin  gives  anecdotes  of 
the  grief  of  a  chief  for  the  loss  of  a  daughter,  and  the  princely 
gifts  he  offers  in  exchange  for  her  portrait,  worthy  not  merely  of 
European,  but  of  Troubadour  sentiment.  It  is  also  evident  that, 
as  Mrs.  Schoolcraft  says,  the  women  have  great  power  at  home. 
It  can  never  be  otherwise,  men  being  dependent  upon  them  for 
the  comfort  of  their  lives.  Just  so  among  ourselves,  wives  who 
are  neither  esteemed  nor  loved  by  their  husbands  have  great 
power  over  their  conduct  by  the  friction  of  every  day,  and  over 
the  formation  of  their  opinions  by  the  daily  opportunities  so  close 
a  relation  affords  of  perverting  testimony  and  instilling  doubts. 
But  these  sentiments  should  not  come  in  brief  flashes,  but  burn 
as  a  steady  flame  ;  then  there  would  be  more  women  worthy  to 
inspire  them.  This  power  is  good  for  nothing,  unless  the  woman 
be  wise  to  use  it  aright.  Has  the  Indian,  has  the  white  woman, 


88  SUMMER    ON    THE    LAKES. 

as  noble  a  feeling  of  life  and  its  uses,  as  religious  a  self-respect,  as 
worthy  a  field  of  thought  and  action,  as  man  ?  If  not,  the  white 
woman,  the  Indian  woman,  occupies  a  position  inferior  to  that  of 
man.  It  is  not  so  much  a  question  of  power,  as  of  privilege. 

The  men  of  these  subjugated  tribes,  now  accustomed  to  drunk 
enness  and  every  way  degraded,  bear  but  a  faint  impress  of  the 
lost  grandeur  of  the  race.  They  are  no  longer  strong,  tall,  or 
finely  proportioned.  Yet,  as  you  see  them  stealing  along  a 
height,  or  striding  boldly  forward,  they  remind  you  of  what 
was  majestic  in  the  red  man. 

On  the  shores  of  Lake  Superior,  it  is  said,  if  you  visit  them  at 
home,  you  may  still  see  a  remnant  of  the  noble  blood.  The  Pil 
lagers  (Pilleurs),  a  band  celebrated  by  the  old  travellers,  are 
still  existent  there. 

"  Still  some,  'the  eagles  of  their  tribe,'  may  rush." 

I  have  spoken  of  the  hatred  felt  by  the  white  man  for  the 
Indian:  with  white  women  it  seems  to  amount  to  disgust,  to 
loathing.  How  I  could  endure  the  dirt,  the  peculiar  smell,  of  the 
Indians,  and  their  dwellings,  was  a  great  marvel  in  the  eyes  of 
my  lady  acquaintance  ;  indeed,  I  wonder  why  they  did  not  quite 
give  me  up,  as  they  certainly  looked  on  me  with  great  distaste 
for  it.  "  Get  you  gone,  you  Indian  dog,"  was  the  felt,  if  not  the 
breathed,  expression  towards  the  hapless  owners  of  the  soil ;  —  all 
their  claims,  all  their  sorrows  quite  forgot,  in  abhorrence  of  their 
dirt,  their  tawny  skins,  and  the  vices  the  whites  have  taught  them. 

A  person  who  had  seen  them  during  great  part  of  a  life  ex 
pressed  his  prejudices  to  me  with  such  violence,  that  I  was  no 
longer  surprised  that  the  Indian  children  threw  sticks  at  him,  as 
he  passed.  A  lady  said:  "  Do  what  you  will  for  them,  they  will 
be  ungrateful.  The  savage  cannot  be  washed  out  of  them. 
Bring  up  an  Indian  child,  and  see  if  you  can  attach  it  to  you." 
The  next  moment,  she  expressed,  in  the  presence  of  one  of  those 
children  whom  she  was  bringing  up,  loathing  at  the  odor  left  by 
one  of  her  people,  and  one  of  the  most  respected,  as  he  passed 
through  the  room.  When  the  child  is  grown,  she  will  be  con- 


THEORY   AND    PRACTICE.  89 

sidered  basely  ungrateful  not  to  love  the  lady,  as  she  certainly 
will  not ;  and  this  will  be  cited  as  an  instance  of  the  impossibility 
of  attaching  the  Indian. 

Whether  the  Indian  could,  by  any  efforts  of  love  and  intelli 
gence  from  the  white  man,  have  been  civilized  and  made  a 
valuable  ingredient  in  the  new  state,  I  will  not  say ;  but  this  we 
are  sure  of,  —  the  French  Catholics,  at  least,  did  not  harm  them, 
nor  disturb  their  minds  merely  to  corrupt  them.  The  French 
they  loved.  But  the  stern  Presbyterian,  with  his  dogmas  and 
his  task-work,  the  city  circle  and  the  college,  with  their  niggard 
concessions  and  unfeeling  stare,  have  never  tried  the  experiment. 
It  has  not  been  tried.  Our  people  and  our  government  have 
sinned  alike  against  the  first-born  of  the  soil,  and  if  they  are  the 
fated  agents  of  a  new  era,  they  have  done  nothing,  —  have  in 
voked  no  god  to  keep  them  sinless  while  they  do  the  hest  of  fate. 

Worst  of  all  is  it,  when  they  invoke  the  holy  power  only  to 
mask  their  iniquity ;  when  the  felon  trader,  who,  all  the  week,  has 
been  besotting  and  degrading  the  Indian  with  rum  mixed  with 
red  pepper,  and  damaged  tobacco,  kneels  with  him  on  Sunday 
before  a  common  altar,  to  tell  the  rosary  which  recalls  the 
thought  of  Him  crucified  for  love  of  suffering  men,  and  to  listen 
to  sermons  in  praise  of  "  purity"  ! ! 

"  My  savage  friends,"  cries  the  old,  fat  priest,  "  you  must,  above 
all  things,  aim  at  purity." 

Oh !  my  heart  swelled  when  I  saw  them  in  a  Christian  church. 
Better  their  own  dog-feasts  and  bloody  rites  than  such  mockery 
of  that  other  faith. 

"  The  dog,"  said  an  Indian,  "  was  once  a  spirit ;  he  has  fallen 
for  his  fein,  and  was  given  by  the  Great  Spirit,  in  this  shape,  to 
man,  as  his  most  intelligent  companion.  Therefore  we  sacrifice 
it  in  highest  honor  to  our  friends  in  this  world,  —  to  our  protect 
ing  geniuses  in  another." 

There  was  religion  in  that  thought.  The  white  man  sacrifices 
his  own  brother,  and  to  Mammon,  yet  he  turns  in  loathing  from 
the  dog-feast. 

"You  say,"  said  the  Indian  of  the  South  to  the  missionary, 
8* 


90  SUMMER    ON    THE    LAKES. 

"that  Christianity  is  pleasing  to  God.  How  can  that  be?  — 
Those  men  at  Savannah  are  Christians." 

Yes!  slave-drivers  and  Indian  traders  are  called  Christians, 
and  the  Indian  is  to  be  deemed  less  like  the  Son  of  Mary  than 
they  !  Wonderful  is  the  deceit  of  man's  heart ! 

I  have  not,  on  seeing  something  of  them  in  their  own  haunts, 
found  reason  to  change  the  sentiments  expressed  in  the  following 
lines,  when  a  deputation  of  the  Sacs  and  Foxes  visited  Boston  in 
1837,  and  were,  by  one  person  at  least,  received  in  a  dignified 
and  courteous  manner. 

GOVERNOR   EVERETT  RECEIVING   THE   INDIAN   CHIEFS, 
NOVEMBER,  1837. 

Who  says  that  Poesy  is  on  the  wane, 
And  that  the  Muses  tune  their  lyres  in  vain  ? 
'Mid  all  the  treasures  of  romantic  story, 
When  thought  was  fresh  and  fancy  in  her  glory, 
Has  ever  Art  found  out  a  richer  theme, 
More  dark  a  shadow,  or  more  soft  a  gleam, 
Than  fall  upon  the  scene,  sketched  carelessly, 
In  the  newspaper  column  of  to-day  ? 

American  romance  is  somewhat  stale. 

Talk  of  the  hatchet,  and  the  faces  pale, 

Wampum  and  calumets  and  forests  dreary, 

Once  so  attractive,  now  begins  to  weary. 

Uncas  and  Magawisca  please  us  still, 

Unreal,  yet  idealized  with  skill ; 

But  every  poetaster,  scribbling  witling, 

From  the  majestic  oak  his  stylus  whittling, 

Has  helped  to  tire  us,  and  to  make  us  fear 

The  monotone  in  which  so  much  we  hear 

Of  "  stoics  of  the  wood,"  and  "  men  without  a  tear." 

Yet  Nature,  ever  buoyant,  ever  young, 
If  let  alone,  will  sing  as  erst  she  sung ; 
The  course  of  circumstance  gives  back  again 
The  Picturesque,  ere  while  pursued  in  vain; 


RECEPTION    OF    INDIAN    CHIEFS.  91 

Shows  us  the  fount  of  Romance  is  not  wasted,  — 
The  lights  and  shades  of  contrast  not  exhausted. 

Shorn  of  his  strength,  the  Samson  now  must  sue 

For  fragments  from  the  feast  his  fathers  gave ; 
The  Indian  dare  not  claim  what  is  his  due, 

But  as  a  boon  his  heritage  must  crave  ; 
His  stately  form  shall  soon  be  seen  no  more 
Through  all  his  father's  land,  the  Atlantic  shore  ; 
Beneath  the  sun,  to  us  so  kind,  they  melt, 
More  heavily  each  day  our  rule  is  felt. 
The  tale  is  old, —  we  do  as  mortals  must : 
Might  makes  right  here,  but  God  and  Time  are  just. 

Though  near  the  drama  hastens  to  its  close, 

On  this  last  scene  awhile  your  eyes  repose  ; 

The  polished  Greek  and  Scythian  meet  again, 

The  ancient  life  is  lived  by  modern  men  ; 

The  savage  through  our  busy  cities  walks, 

He  in  his  untouched  grandeur  silent  stalks. 

Unmoved  by  all  our  gayeties  and  shows, 

Wonder  nor  shame  can  touch  him  as  he  goes ; 

He  gazes  on  the  marvels  we  have  wrought, 

But  knows  the  models  from  whence  all  was  brought ; 

In  God's  first  temples  he  has  stood  so  oft, 

And  listened  to  the  natural  organ-loft, 

Has  watched  the  eagle's  flight,  the  muttering  thunder  heard, 

Art  cannot  move  him  to  a  wondering  word. 

Perhaps  he  sees  that  all  this  luxury 

Brings  less  food  to  the  mind  than  to  the  eye ; 

Perhaps  a  simple  sentiment  has  brought 

More  to  him  than  your  arts  had  e^er  taught. 

What  are  the  petty  triumphs  Art  has  given, 

To  eyes  familiar  with  the  naked  heaven  ? 

All  has  been  seen,  —  dock,  railroad,  and  canal, 

Fort,  market,  bridge,  college,  and  arsenal, 

Asylum,  hospital,  and  cotton-mill, 

The  theatre,  the  lighthouse,  and  the  jail. 

The  Braves  each  novelty,  reflecting,  saw, 

And  now  and  then  growled  out  the  earnest  "  Yaw." 


92  SUMMER    ON    THE    LAKES. 

And  now  the  time  is  come,  't  is  understood, 

When,  having  seen  and  thought  so  much,  a  talk  may  do  some  good, 

A  well-dressed  mob  have  thronged  the  sight  to  greet, 
And  motley  figures  throng  the  spacious  street ; 
Majestical  and  calm  through  all  they  stride, 
Wearing  the  blanket  with  a  monarch's  pride  ; 
The  gazers  stare  and  shrug,  but  can't  deny 
Their  noble  forms  and  blameless  symmetry. 
If  the  Great  Spirit  their  morale  has  slighted, 
And  wigwam  smoke  their  mental  culture  blighted, 
Yet  the  physique,  at  least,  perfection  reaches, 
In  wilds  where  neither  Combe  nor  Spurzheim  teaches ; 
Where  whispering  trees  invite  man  to  the  chase, 
And  bounding  deer  allure  him  to  the  race. 

Would  thou  hadst  seen  it !     That  dark,  stately  band, 

Whose  ancestors  enjoyed  all  this  fair  land, 

Whence  they,  by  force  or  fraud,  were  made  to  flee, 

Are  brought,  the  white  man's  victory  to  see. 

Can  kind  emotions  in  their  proud  hearts  glow, 

As  through  these  realms,  now  decked  by  Art,  they  go  ? 

The  church,  the  school,  the  railroad,  and  the  mart,  — 

Can  these  a  pleasure  to  their  minds  impart  ? 

All  once  was  theirs,  —  earth,  ocean,  forest,  sky, — 

How  can  they  joy  in  what  now  meets  the  eye  ? 

Not  yet  Religion  has  unlocked  the  soul, 

Nor  Each  has  learned  to  glory  in  the  Whole ! 

Must  they  not  think,  so  strange  and  sad  their  lot, 
That  they  by  the  Great  Spirit  are  forgot  ? 
From  the  far  border  to  which  they  are  driven, 
They  might  look  up  in*  trust  to  the  clear  heaven  ; 
But  here,  —  what  tales  doth  every  object  tell 
Where  Massasoit  sleeps,  where  Philip  fell ! 

We  take  our  turn,  and  the  Philosopher 
Sees  through  the  clouds  a  hand  which  cannot  err, 
An  unimproving  race,  with  all  their  graces 
And  all  their  vices,  must  resign  their  places ; 
And  Human  Culture  rolls  its  onward  ilood 
Over  the  broad  plains  steeped  in  Indian  blood. 


RECEPTION    OF    INDIAN    CHIEFS.  93 

Such  thoughts  steady  our  faith ;  yet  there  will  rise 
Some  natural  tears  into  the  calmest  eyes, — 
Which  gaze  where  forest  princes  haughty  go, 
Made  for  a  gaping  crowd  a  raree-show. 

But  this  a  scene  seems  where,  in  courtesy, 

The  pale  face  with  the  forest  prince  could  vie, 

For  one  presided,  who,  for  tact  and  grace, 

In  any  age  had  held  an  honored  place,  — 

In  Beauty's  own  dear  day  had  shone  a  polished  Phidian  vase  ! 

Oft  have  I  listened  to  his  accents  bland, 

And  owned  the  magic  of  his  silvery  voice, 
In  all  the  graces  which  life's  arts  demand, 

Delighted  by  the  justness  of  his  choice. 
Not  his  the  stream  of  lavish,  fervid  thought,  — 
The  rhetoric  by  passion's  magic  wrought; 
Not  his  the  massive  style,  the  lion  port, 
Which  with  the  granite  class  of  mind  assort ; 
But,  in  a  range  of  excellence  his  own, 
With  all  the  charms  to  soft  persuasion  known, 
Amid  our  busy  people  we  admire  him,  —  "  elegant  and  lone." 

He  scarce  needs  words  :  so  exquisite  the  skill 

Which  modulates  the  tones  to  do  his  will, 

That  the  mere  sound  enough  would  charm  the  ear, 

And  lap  in  its  Elysium  ail  who  hear. 

The  intellectual  paleness  of  his  cheek, 

The  heavy  eyelids  and  slow,  tranquil  smile, 
The  well-cut  lips  from  which  the  graces  speak, 

Fit  him  alike  to  win  or  to  beguile ; 
Then  those  words  so  well  chosen,  fit,  though  few, 
Their  linked  sweetness  as  our  thoughts  pursue, 
We  deem  them  spoken  pearls,  or  radiant  diamond  dew. 

And  never  yet  did  I  admire  the  power 

Which  makes  so  lustrous  every  threadbare  theme,  — 
Which  won  for  La  Fayette  one  other  hour, 

And  e'en  on  July  Fourth  could  cast  a  gleam,  — 
As  now,  when  I  behold  him  play  the  host, 
With  all  the  dignity  which  red  men  boast,  — 


94  SUMMER    ON    THE    LAKES. 

With  all  the  courtesy  the  whites  have  lost ; 

Assume  the  very  hue  of  savage  mind, 

Yet  in  rude  accents  show  the  thought  refined  ; 

Assume  the  naivete  of  infant  age, 

And  in  such  prattle  seem  still  more  a  sage ; 

The  golden  mean  with  tact  unerring  seized, 

A  courtly-  critic  shone,  a  simple  savage  pleased. 

The  stoic  of  the  woods  his  skill  confessed, 

As  all  the  father  answered  in  his  breast ; 

To  the  sure  mark  the  silver  arrow  sped, 

The  "  man  without  a  tear  "  a  tear  has  shed  ; 

And  thou  hadst  wept,  hadst  thou  been  there,  to  see 

How  true  one  sentiment  must  ever  be, 

In  court  or  camp,  the  city  or  the  wild, — 

To  rouse  the  father's  heart,  you  need  but  name  his  child. 

The  speech  of  Governor  Everett  on  that  occasion  was  admira 
ble  ;  as  I  think,  the  happiest  attempt  ever  made  to  meet  the  Indian 
in  his  own  way,  and  catch  the  tone  of  his  mind.  It  was  said,  in 
the  newspapers,  that  Keokuck  did  actually  shed  tears  when  ad 
dressed  as  a  father.  If  he  did  not  with  his  eyes,  he  well  might  in 
his  heart. 

Not  often  have  they  been  addressed  with  such  intelligence  and 
tact.  The  few  who  have  not  approached  them  with  sordid  rapa 
city,  but  from  love  to  them,  as  men  having  souls  to  be  redeemed, 
have  most  frequently  been  persons  intellectually  too  narrow,  too 
straitly  bound  in  sects  or  opinions,  to  throw  themselves  into  the 
character  or  position  of  the  Indians,  or  impart  to  them  anything 
they  can  make  available.  The  Christ  shown  them  by  these  mis 
sionaries  is  to  them  but  a  new  and  more  powerful  Manito  ;  the 
signs  of  the  new  religion,  but  the  fetiches  that  have  aided  the  con 
querors. 

Here  I  will  copy  some  remarks  made  by  a  discerning  observer, 
on  the  methods  used  by  the  missionaries,  and  their  natural  re 
sults. 

"  Mr. and  myself  had  a  very  interesting  conversation,  upon 

the  subject  of  the  Indians,  their  character,  capabilities,  &c.  After 
ten  years'  experience  among  them,  he  was  forced  to  acknowledge 


MISSIONARIES.  95 

that  the  results  of  the  missionary  efforts  had  produced  nothing 
calculated  to  encourage.  He  thought  that  there  was  an  intrinsic 
disability  in  them  to  rise  above,  or  go  beyond,  the  sphere  in  which 
they  had  so  long  moved.  He  said,  that  even  those  Indians  who 
had  been  converted,  and  who  had  adopted  the  habits  of  civiliza 
tion,  were  very  little  improved  in  their  real  character  ;  they 
were  as  selfish,  as  deceitful,  and  as  indolent,  as  those  who  were 
still  heathens.  They  had  repaid  the  kindnesses  of  the  mission 
aries  with  the  basest  ingratitude,  killing  their  cattle  and  swine, 
and  robbing  them  of  their  harvests,  which  they  wantonly  de 
stroyed.  He  had  abandoned  the  idea  of  effecting  any  general 
good  to  the  Indians.  He  had  conscientious  scruples  as  to  pro 
moting  an  enterprise  so  hopeless  as  that  of  missions  among  the 
Indians,  by  sending  accounts  to  the  East  that  might  induce  philan 
thropic  individuals  to  contribute  to  their  support.  In  fact,  the 
whole  experience  of  his  intercourse  with  them  seemed  to  have 
convinced  him  of  the  irremediable  degradation  of  the  race.  Their 
fortitude  under  suffering  he  considered  the  result  of  physical  and 
mental  insensibility  ;  their  courage,  a  mere  animal  excitement, 
which  they  found  it  necessary  to  inflame,  before  daring  to  meet  a 
foe.  They  have  no  constancy  of  purpose  ;  and  are,  in  fact,  but 
little  superior  to  the  brutes  in  point  of  moral  development.  It  is 
not  astonishing,  that  one  looking  upon  the  Indian  character  from 

Mr.  's  point  of  view  should  entertain  such  sentiments.     The 

object  of  his  intercourse  with  them  was,  to  make  them  apprehend 
the  mysteries  of  a  theology,  which,  to  the  most  enlightened,  is  an 
abstruse,  metaphysical  study ;  and  it  is  not  singular  they  should 
prefer  their  pagan  superstitions,  which  address  themselves  more 
directly  to  the  senses.  Failing  in  the  attempt  to  Christianize  be 
fore  civilizing  them,  he  inferred  that  in  the  intrinsic  degradation 
of  their  faculties  the  obstacle  was  to  be  found." 

Thus  the  missionary  vainly  attempts,  by  once  or  twice  holding 
up  the  cross,  to  turn  deer  and  tigers  into  lambs  ;  vainly  attempts 
to  convince  the  red  man  that  a  heavenly  mandate  takes  from  him 
his  broad  lands.  He  bows  his  head,  but  does  not  at  heart  ac 
quiesce.  He  cannot.  It  is  not  true  ;  and  if  it  were,  the  descent 


96  SUMMER    ON    THE    LAKES. 

of  blood  through  the  same  channels,  for  centuries,  has  formed 
habits  of  thought  not  so  easily  to  be  disturbed. 

Amalgamation  would  afford  the  only  true  and  profound  means 
of  civilization.  But  nature  seems,  like  all  else,  to  declare  that 
this  race  is  fated  to  perish.  Those  of  mixed  blood  fade  early, 
and  are  not  generally  a  fine  race.  They  lose  what  is  best  in 
either  type,  rather  than  enhance  the  value  of  each,  by  mingling. 
There  are  exceptions,  —  one  or  two  such  I  know  of,  —  but  this, 
it  is  said,  is  the  general  rule. 

A  traveller  observes,  that  the  white  settlers  who  live  in  the 
woods  soon  become  sallow,  lanky,  and  dejected ;  the  atmosphere 
of  the  trees  does  not  agree  with  Caucasian  lungs  ;  and  it  is,  per 
haps,  in  part  an  instinct  of  this  which  causes  the  hatred  of  the 
new  settlers  towards  trees.  The  Indian  breathed  the  atmosphere 
of  the  forests  freely ;  he  loved  their  shade.  As  they  are  effaced 
from  the  land,  he  fleets  too ;  a  part  of  the  same  manifestation, 
which  cannot  linger  behind  its  proper  era. 

The  Chippewas  have  lately  petitioned  the  State  of  Michigan, 
that  they  may  be  admitted  as  citizens  ;  but  this  would  be  vain, 
unless  they  could  be  admitted,  as  brothers,  to  the  heart  of  the 
white  man.  And  while  the  latter  feels  that  conviction  of  superi 
ority  which  enabled  our  Wisconsin  friend  to  throw  away  the  gun, 
and  send  the  Indian  to  fetch  it,  he  needs  to  be  very  good,  and 
very  wise,  not  to  abuse  his  position.  But  the  white  man,  as  yet, 
is  a  half-tamed  pirate,  and  avails  himself  as  much  as  ever  of  the 
maxim,  "  Might  makes  right."  All  that  civilization  does  for  the 
generality  is  to  cover  up  this  with  a  veil  of  subtle  evasions  and 
chicane,  and  here  and  there  to  rouse  the  individual  mind  to  appeal 
to  Heaven  against  it. 

I  have  no  hope  of  liberalizing  the  missionary,  of  humanizing 
the  sharks  of  trade,  of  infusing  the  conscientious  drop  into  the 
flinty  bosom  of  policy,  of  saving  the  Indian  from  immediate  deg 
radation  and  speedy  death.  The  whole  sermon  may  be  preached 
from  the  text,  "  Needs  be  that  offences  must  come,  yet  woe  unto 
them  by  whom  they  come."  Yet,  ere  they  depart,  I  wish  there 
might  be  some  masterly  attempt  to  reproduce,  in  art  or  literature, 


KEY-WAY-NO-WUT.  97 

what  is  proper  to  them,  —  a  kind  of  beauty  and  grandeur  which 
few  of  the  every-day  crowd  have  hearts  to  feel,  yet  which  ought 
to  leave  in  the  world  its  monuments,  to  inspire  the  thought  of 
genius  through  all  ages.  Nothing  in  this  kind  has  been  done 
masterly  ;  since  it  was  Clevengers's  ambition,  't  is  pity  he  had  not 
opportunity  to  try  fully  his  powers.  We  hope  some  other  mind 
may  be  bent  upon  it,  ere  too  late.  At  present  the  only  lively  im 
press  of  their  passage  through  the  world  is  to  be  found  in  such 
books  as  Catlin's,  and  some  stories  told  by  the  old  travellers. 

Let  me  here  give  another  brief  tale  of  the  power  exerted  by 
the  white  man  over  the  savage  in  a  trying  case ;  but  in  this  case 
it  was  righteous,  was  moral  power. 

"  We  were  looking  over  McKenney's  Tour  to  the  Lakes,  and, 
on  observing  the  picture  of  Key-way -no-wut,  or  the  Going  Cloud, 
Mr.  B.  observed,  *  Ah,  that  is  the  fellow  I  came  near  having  a 
fight  with';  and  he  detailed  at  length  the  circumstances.  This 
Indian  was  a  very  desperate  character,  and  of  whom  all  the  Leech 
Lake  band  stood  in  fear.  He  would  shoot  down  any  Indian  who 
offended  him,  without  the  least  hesitation,  and  had  become  quite 
the  bully  of  that  part  of  the  tribe.  The  trader  at  Leech  Lake 
warned  Mr.  B.  to  beware  of  him,  and  said  that  he  once,  when  he 
(the  trader)  refused  to  give  up  to  him  his  stock  of  wild-rice,  went 
and  got  his  gun  and  tomahawk,  and  shook  the  tomahawk  over  his 
head,  saying,  '  Now,  give  me  your  wild-rice.'  The  trader  com 
plied  with  his  exaction,  but  not  so  did  Mr.  B.  in  the  adventure 
which  I  am  about  to  relate.  Key-way-no-wut  came  frequently 
to  him  with  furs,  wishing  him  to  give  for  them  cotton-cloth,  sugar, 
flour,  &c.  Mr.  B.  explained  to  him  that  he  could  not  trade  for 
furs,  as  he  was  sent  there  as  a  teacher,  and  that  it  would  be  like 
putting  his  hand  into  the  fire  to  do  so,  as  the  traders  would  inform 
against  him,  and  he  would  be  sent  out  of  the  country.  At  the 
same  time,  he  gave  him  the  articles  which  he  wished.  Key-way- 
no-wut  found  this  a  very  convenient  way  of  getting  what  he  want 
ed,  and  followed  up  this  sort  of  game,  until,  at  last,  it  became  in 
supportable.  One  day  the  Indian  brought  a  very  large  otter-skin, 
and  said,  *  I  want  to  get  for  this  ten  pounds  of  sugar,  and  some 
9 


98  SUMMER    ON    THE    LAKES. 

flour  and  cloth/  adding,  'I  am  not  like  other  Indians,  /want  to 
pay  for  what  I  get.'  Mr.  B.  found  that  he  must  either  be  robbed 
of  all  he  had  by  submitting  to  these  exactions,  or  take  a  stand  at 
once.  He  thought,  however,  he  would  try  to  avoid  a  scrape,  and 
told  his  customer  he  had  not  so  much  sugar  to  spare.  '  Give  me, 
then,'  said  he,  *  what  you  can  spare  ' ;  and  Mr.  B.,  thinking  to  make 
him  back  out,  told  him  he  would  give  him  five  pounds  of  sugar 
for  his  skin.  '  Take  it,'  said  the  Indian.  He  left  the  skin,  telling 
Mr.  B.  to  take  good  care  of  it.  Mr.  B.  took  it  at  once  to  the 
trader's  store,  and  related  the  circumstance,  congratulating  him 
self  that  he  had  got  rid  of  the  Indian's  exactions.  But  in  about 
a  month  Key-way-no-wut  appeared,  bringing  some  dirty  Indian 
sugar,  and  said,  '  I  have  brought  back  the  sugar  that  I  borrowed 
of  you,  and  I  want  my  otter-skin  back.'  Mr.  B.  told  him,  '  I 
bought  an  otter-skin  of  you,  but  if  you  will  return  the  other  arti 
cles  you  have  got  for  it,  perhaps  I  can  get  it  for  you.'  '  Where  is 
the  skin  ? '  said  he  very  quickly  ;  '  what  have  you  done  with  it? ' 
Mr.  B.  replied  it  was  in  the  trader's  store,  where  he  (the  Indian) 
could  not  get  it.  At  this  information  he  was  furious,  laid  his  hands 
on  his  knife  and  tomahawk,  and  commanded  Mr.  B.  to  bring  it  at 
once.  Mr.  B.  found  this  was  the  crisis,  where  he  must  take  a 
stand  or  be  '  rode  over  rough-shod '  by  this  man.  His  wife,  who 
was  present  was  much  alarmed,  and  begged  he  would  get  the  skin 
for  the  Indian,  but  he  told  her  that  '  either  he  or  the  Indian  would 
soon  be  master  of  his  house,  and  if  she  was  afraid  to  see  it  decided 
which  was  to  be  so,  she  had  better  retire.'  He  turned  to  Key- 
way-no-wut,  and  addressed  him  in  a  stern  voice  as  follows  :  '  I 
will  not  give  you  the  skin.  How  often  have  you  come  to  my 
house,  and  I  have  shared  with  you  what  I  had.  I  gave  you  to 
bacco  when  you  were  well,  and  medicine  when  you  were  sick,  and 
you  never  went  away  from  my  wigwam  with  your  hands  empty. 
And  this  is  the  way  you  return  my  treatment  to  you.  I  had 
thought  you  were  a  man  and  a  chief,  but  you  are  not,  you  are 
nothing  but  an  old  wroman.  Leave  this  house,  and  never  enter  it 
again.'  Mr.  B.  said  he  expected  the  Indian  would  attempt  his  life 
when  he  said  this,  but  that  he  had  placed  himself  in  a  position  so 


INDIAN   MORAL    CODE.  99 

that  he  could  defend  himself,  and  looked  straight  into  the  Indian's 
eye,  and,  like  other  wild  beasts,  he  quailed  before  the  glance  of 
mental  and  moral  courage.  He  calmed  down  at  once,  and  soon 
began  to  make  apologies.  Mr.  B.  then  told  him  kindly,  but  firm 
ly,  that,  if  he  wished  to  walk  in  the  same  path  with  him,  he  must 
walk  as  straight  as  the  crack  on  the  floor  before  them  ;  adding, 
that  he  would  not  walk  with  anybody  who  would  jostle  him  by 
walking  so  crooked  as  he  had  done.  He  was  perfectly  tamed, 
and  Mr.  B.  said  he  never  had  any  more  trouble  with  him." 

The  conviction  here  livingly  enforced  of  the  superiority  on  the 
side  of  the  white  man,  was  thus  expressed  by  the  Indian  orator 
at  Mackinaw  while  we  were  there.  After  the  customary  compli 
ments  about  sun,  dew,  &c.,  "  This,"  said  he,  "  is  the  difference 
between  the  white  and  the  red  man ;  the  white  man  looks  to  the 
future  and  paves  the  way  for  posterity.  The  red  man  never 
thought  of  this."  This  is  a  statement  uncommonly  refined  for  an 
Indian ;  but  one  of  the  gentlemen  present,  who  understood  the 
Chippewa,  vouched  for  it  as  a  literal  rendering  of  his  phrases  ; 
and  he  did  indeed  touch  the  vital  point  of  difference.  But  the 
Indian,  if  he  understands,  cannot  make  use  of  his  intelligence. 
The  fate  of  his  people  is  against  it,  and  Pontiac  and  Philip  have 
no  more  chance  than  Julian  in  the  times  of  old. 

The  Indian  is  steady  to  that  simple  creed  which  forms  the  basis 
of  all  his  mythology ;  that  there  is  a  God  and  a  life  beyond  this ; 
a  right  and  wrong  which  each  man  can  see,  betwixt  which  each 
man  should  choose  ;  that  good  brings  with  it  its  reward,  and  v'ce 
its  punishment.  His  moral  code,  if  not  as  refined  as  that  of  civil 
ized  nations,  is  clear  and  noble  in  the  stress  laid  upon  truth  and 
fidelity.  And  all  unprejudiced  observers  bear  testimony,  that  the 
Indians,  until  broken  from  their  old  anchorage  by  intercourse  with 
the  whites,  —  who  offer  them,  instead,  a  religion  of  which  they 
furnish  neither  interpretation  nor  example,  —  were  singularly  vir 
tuous,  if  virtue  be  allowed  to  consist  in  a  man's  acting  up  to  his 
own  ideas  of  right. 

My  friend,  who  joined  me  at  Mackinaw,  happened,  on  the 
homeward  journey,  to  see  a  little  Chinese  girl,  who  had  been  sent 


100  SUMMER    ON    THE    LAKES. 

over  by  one  of  the  missionaries,  and  observed  that,  in  features, 
complexion,  and  gesture,  she  was  a  counterpart  to  the  little  In 
dian  girls  she  had  just  seen  playing  about  on  the  lake  shore. 

The  parentage  of  these  tribes  is  still  an  interesting  subject  of 
speculation,  though,  if  they  be  not  created  for  this  region,  they 
have  become  so  assimilated  to  it  as  to  retain  little  trace  of  any 
other.  To  me  it  seems  most  probable,  that  a  peculiar  race  was 
bestowed  on  each  region,*  as  the  lion  on  one  latitude  and  the 
white  bear  on  another.  As  man  has  two  natures,  —  one,  like  that 
of  the  plants  and  animals,  adapted  to  the  uses  and  enjoyments  of 
this  planet,  another  which  presages  and  demands  a  higher  sphere, 
—  he  is  constantly  breaking  bounds,  in  proportion  as  the  mental 
gets  the  better  of  the  mere  instinctive  existence.  As  yet,  he 
loses  in  harmony  of  being  what  he  gains  in  height  and  extension ; 
the  civilized  man  is  a  larger  mind,  but  a  more  imperfect  nature, 
than  the  savage. 

We  hope  there  will  be  a  national  institute,  containing  all  the 
remains  of  the  Indians,  all  that  has  been  preserved  by  official 
intercourse  at  Washington,  Catlin's  collection,  and  a  picture-gal 
lery  as  complete  as  can  be  made,  with  a  collection  of  skulls  from 
all  parts  of  the  country.  To  this  should  be  joined  the  scanty 
library  that  exists  on  the  subject. 

A  little  pamphlet,  giving  an  account  of  the  massacre  at  Chicago, 
has  lately  been  published,  which  I  wish  much  I  had  seen  while 
there,  as  it  would  have  imparted  an  interest  to  spots  otherwise 
barren.  It  is  written  with  animation,  and  in  an  excellent  style, 
telling  just  what  we  want  to  hear,  and  no  more.  The  traits  given 
of  Indian  generosity  are  as  characteristic  as  those  of  Indian  cru 
elty.  A  lady,  who  was  saved  by  a  friendly  chief  holding  her 
under  the  waters  of  the  lake,  at  the  moment  the  balls  endan 
gered  her,  received  also,  in  the  heat  of  the  conflict,  a  reviving 
draught  from  a  squaw,  who  saw  she  was  exhausted ;  and  as  she 
lay  down,  a  mat  was  hung  up  between  her  and  the  scene  of 


*  Professor  Agassiz  has  recently  published  some  able  scientific  papers  tending 
to  enforce  this  theory.  —  ED. 


INDIAN    GOVERNMENT.  101 

butchery,  so  that  she  was  protected  from  the  sight,  though  she 
could  not  be  from  sounds  full  of  horror. 

I  have  not  wished  to  write  sentimentally  about  the  Indians, 
however  moved  by  the  thought  of  their  wrongs  and  speedy  ex 
tinction.  I  know  that  the  Europeans  who  took  possession  of  this 
country  felt  themselves  justified  by  their  superior  civilization  and 
religious  ideas.  Had  they  been  truly  civilized  or  Christianized, 
the  conflicts  which  sprang  from  the  collision  of  the  two  races 
might  have  been  avoided ;  but  this  cannot  be  expected  in  move 
ments  made  by  masses  of  men.  The  mass  has  never  yet  been 
humanized,  though  the  age  may  develop  a  human  thought. 
Since  those  conflicts  and  differences  did  arise,  the  hatred  which 
sprang  from  terror  and  suffering,  on  the  European  side,  has 
naturally  warped  the  whites  still  further  from  justice. 

The  Indian,  brandishing  the  scalps  of  his  wife  and  friends, 
drinking  their  blood,  and  eating  their  hearts,  is  by  him  viewed  as 
a  fiend,  though,  at  a  distant  day,  he  will  no  doubt  be  considered 
as  having  acted  the  Roman  or  Carthaginian  part  of  heroic  and 
patriotic  self-defence,  according  to  the  standard  of  right  and 
motives  prescribed  by  his  religious  faith  and  education.  Looked 
at  by  his  own  standard,  he  is  virtuous  when  he  most  injures  his 
enemy,  and  the  white,  if  he  be  really  the  superior  in  enlarge 
ment  of  thought,  ought  to  cast  aside  his  inherited  prejudices 
enough  to  see  this,  to  look  on  him  in  pity  and  brotherly  good 
will,  and  do  all  he  can  to  mitigate  the  doom  of  those  who  survive 
his  past  injuries. 

In  McKenney's  book  is  proposed  a  project  for  organizing  the 
Indians  under  a  patriarchal  government ;  but  it  does  not  look 
feasible,  even  on  paper.  Could  their  own  intelligent  men  be 
left  to  act  unimpeded  in  their  behalf,  they  would  do  far  better 
for  them  than  the  white  thinker,  with  all  his  general  knowledge. 
But  we  dare  not  hope  the  designs  of  such  will  not  always  be 
frustrated  by  barbarous  selfishness,  as  they  were  in  Georgia. 
There  was  a  chance  of  seeing  what  might  have  been  done,  now 
lost  for  ever. 

Yet  let  every  man  look  to  himself  how  far  this  blood  shall  be 
9* 


102  SUMMER    ON   THE   LAKES. 

required  at  his  hands.  Let  the  missionary,  instead  of  preaching 
to  the  Indian,  preach  to  the  trader  who  ruins  him,  of  the  dread 
ful  account  which  will  be  demanded  of  the  followers  of  Cain,  in 
a  sphere  where  the  accents  of  purity  and  love  come  on  the  ear 
more  decisively  than  in  ours.  Let  every  legislator  take  the  sub 
ject  to  heart,  and,  if  he  cannot  undo  the  effects  of  past  sin,  try  for 
that  clear  view  and  right  sense  that  may  save  us  from  sinning 
still  more  deeply.  And  let  every  man  and  every  woman,  in 
their  private  dealings  with  the  subjugated  race,  avoid  all  share 
in  embittering,  by  insult  or  unfeeling  prejudice,  the  captivity  of 
Israel. 


CHAPTER    VII. 

SAULT    ST.    MARIE.  ST.  JOSEPH'S      ISLAND. THE     LAND     OP 

MUSIC. RAPIDS. HOMEWARD. GENERAL    HULL. THE 

BOOK    TO    THE    READER. 

NINE  days  I  passed  alone  at  Mackinaw,  except  for  occasional 
visits  from  kind  and  agreeable  residents  at  the  fort,  and  Mr.  and 
Mrs.  A.  Mr.  A.,  long  engaged  in  the  fur-trade,  is  gratefully 
remembered  by  many  travellers.  From  Mrs.  A.,  also,  I  received 
kind  attentions,  paid  in  the  vivacious  and  graceful  manner  of  her 
nation. 

The  society  at  the  boarding-house  entertained,  being  of  a  kind 
entirely  new  to  me.  There  were  many  traders  from  the  remote 
stations,  such  as  La  Pointe,  Arbre  Croche,  —  men  who  had  be 
come  half  wild  and  wholly  rude  by  living  in  the  wild  ;  but  good- 
humored,  observing,  and  with  a  store  of  knowledge  to  impart,  of 
the  kind  proper  to  their  place. 

There  were  two  little  girls  here,  that  were  pleasant  companions 
for  me.  One  gay,  frank,  impetuous,  but  sweet  and  winning. 
She  was  an  American,  fair,  and  with  bright  brown  hair.  The 
other,  a  little  French  Canadian,  used  to  join  me  in  my  walks, 
silently  take  my  hand,  and  sit  at  my  feet  when  I  stopped  in  beau 
tiful  places.  She  seemed  to  understand  without  a  word  ;  and  I 
never  shall  forget  her  little  figure,  with  its  light,  but  pensive 
motion,  and  her  delicate,  grave  features,  with  the  pale,  clear  com 
plexion  and  soft  eye.  She  was  motherless,  and  much  left  alone 
by  her  father  and  brothers,  who  were  boatmen.  The  two  little 
girls  were  as  pretty  representatives  of  Allegro  and  Penseroso  as 
one  would  wish  to  see. 


104  SUMMER    ON    THE    LAKES. 

I  had  been  wishing  that  a  boat  would  come  in  to  take  me  to 
the  Sault  St.  Marie,  and  several  times  started  to  the  window  at 
night  in  hopes  that  the  pant  and  dusky-red  light  crossing  the 
waters  belonged  to  such  an  one  ;  but  they  were  always  boats  for 
Chicago  or  Buffalo,  till,  on  the  28th  of  August,  Allegro,  who 
shared  my  plans  and  wishes,  rushed  in  to  tell  me  that  the  Gen 
eral  Scott  had  come ;  and  in  this  little  steamer,  accordingly,  I  set 
off  the  next  morning. 

I  was  the  only  lady,  and  attended  in  the  cabin  by  a  Dutch  girl 
and  an  Indian  woman.  They  both  spoke  English  fluently,  and 
entertained  me  much  by  accounts  of  their  different  experiences. 

The  Dutch  girl  told  me  of  a  dance  among  the  common  people 
at  Amsterdam,  called  the  shepherd's  dance.  The  two  leaders  are 
dressed  as  shepherd  and  shepherdess  ;  they  invent  to  the  music 
all  kinds  of  movements,  descriptive  of  things  that  may  happen  in 
the  field,  and  the  rest  are  obliged  to  follow.  I  have  never  heard 
of  any  dance  which  gave  such  free  play  to  the  fancy  as  this. 
French  dances  merely  describe  the  polite  movements  of  society ; 
Spanish  and  Neapolitan,  love ;  the  beautiful  Mazurkas,  &c.  are 
war-like  or  expressive  of  wild  scenery.  But  in  this  one  is  great 
room  both  for  fun  and  fancy. 

The  Indian  was  married,  when  young,  by  her  parents,  to  a  man 
she  did  not  love.  He  became  dissipated,  and  did  not  maintain 
her.  She  left  him,  taking  with  her  their  child,  for  whom  and 
herself  she  earns  a  subsistence  by  going  as  chambermaid  in 
these  boats.  Now  and  then,  she  said,  her  husband  called  on  her, 
and  asked  if  he  might  live  with  her  again  ;  but  she  always  an 
swered,  No.  Here  she  was  far  freer  than  she  would  have  been  in 
civilized  life.  I  was  pleased  by  the  nonchalance  of  this  woman, 
and  the  perfectly  national  manner  she  had  preserved  after  so 
many  years  of  contact  with  all  kinds  of  people. 

The  two  women,  when  I  left  the  boat,  made  me  presents  of 
Indian  work,  such  as  travellers  value,  and  the  manner  of  the 
two  was  characteristic  of  their  different  nations.  The  Indian 
brought  me  hers,  when  I  was  alone,  looked  bashfully  down 
when  she  gave  it,  and  made  an  almost  sentimental  little  speech. 


THE    GENERAL    SCOTT.  105 

The  Dutch  girl  brought  hers  in  public,  and,  bridling  her  short 
chin  with  a  self-complacent  air,  observed  she  had  bought  it  for 
me.  But  the  feeling  of  affectionate  regard  was  the  same  in  the 
minds  of  both. 

Island  after  island  we  passed,  all  fairly  shaped  and  clustering 
in  a  friendly  way,  but  with  little  variety  of  vegetation.  In  the 
afternoon  the  weather  became  foggy,  and  we  could  not  proceed 
after  dark.  That  was  as  dull  an  evening  as  ever  fell. 

The  next  morning  the  fog  still  lay  heavy,  but  the  captain  took 
me  out  in  his  boat  on  an  exploring  expedition,  and  we  found  the 
remains  of  the  old  English  fort  on  Point  St.  Joseph's.  All  around 
was  so  wholly  unmarked  by  anything  but  stress  of  wind  and 
weather,  the  shores  of  these  islands  and  their  woods  so  like  one 
another,  wild  and  lonely,  but  nowhere  rich  and  majestic,  that 
there  was  some  charm  in  the  remains  of  the  garden,  the  remains 
even  of  chimneys  and  a  pier.  They  gave  feature  to  the  scene. 

Here  I  gathered  many  flowers,  but  they  were  the  same  as  at 
Mackinaw. 

The  captain,  though  he  had  been  on  this  trip  hundreds  of  times, 
had  never  seen  this  spot,  and  never  would  but  for  this  fog,  and  his 
desire  to  entertain  me.  He  presented  a  striking  instance  how 
men,  for  the  sake  of  getting  a  living,  forget  to  live.  It  is  just  the 
same  in  the  most  romantic  as  the  most  dull  and  vulgar  places. 
Men  get  the  harness  on  so  fast,  that  they  can  never  shake  it  off, 
unless  they  guard  against  this  danger  from  the  very  first.  In 
Chicago,  how  many  men  live  who  never  find  time  to  see  the 
prairies,  or  learn  anything  unconnected  with  the  business  of  the 
day,  or  about  the  country  they  are  living  in ! 

So  this  captain,  a  man  of  strong  sense  and  good  eyesight,  rarely 
found  time  to  go  off  the  track  or  look  about  him  on  it.  He  la 
mented,  too,  that  there  had  been  no  call  which  induced  him  to 
develop  his  powers  of  expression,  so  that  he  might  communicate 
what  he  had  seen  for  the  enjoyment  or  instruction  of  others. 

This  is  a  common  fault  among  the  active  men,  the  truly  living, 
who  could  tell  what  life  is.  It  should  not  be  so.  Literature 
should  not  be  left  to  the  mere  literati,  —  eloquence  to  the  mere 


106  SUMMER    ON   THE    LAKES. 

orator ;  every  Caesar  should  be  able  to  write  his  own  commen 
tary.  We  want  a  more  equal,  more  thorough,  more  harmonious 
development,  and  there  is  nothing  to  hinder  the  men  of  this  coun 
try  from  it,  except  their  own  supineness,  or  sordid  views. 

When  the  weather  did  clear,  our  course  up  the  river  was  de 
lightful.  Long  stretched  before  us  the  island  of  St.  Joseph's,  with 
its  fair  woods  of  sugar-maple.  A  gentleman  on  board,  who  be 
longs  to  the  Fort  at  the  Sault,  said  their  pastime  was  to  come  in 
the  season  of  making  sugar,  and  pass  some  time  on  this  island,  — 
the  days  at  work,  and  the  evening  in  dancing  and  other  amusements. 
Work  of  this  kind  done  in  the  open  air,  where  everything  is 
temporary,  and  every  utensil  prepared  on  the  spot,  gives  life  a 
truly  festive  air.  At  such  times,  there  is  labor  and  no  care,  — 
energy  with  gayety,  gayety  of  the  heart. 

I  think  with  the  same  pleasure  of  the  Italian  vintage,  the  Scotch 
harvest-home,  with  its  evening  dance  in  the  barn,  the  Russian 
cabbage-feast  even,  and  our  huskings  and  hop-gatherings.  The 
hop-gatherings,  where  the  groups  of  men  and  girls  are  pulling 
down  and  filling  baskets  with  the  gay  festoons,  present  as  grace 
ful  pictures  as  the  Italian  vintage. 

How  pleasant  is  the  course  along  a  new  river,  the  sight  of  new 
shores  !  like  a  life,  would  but  life  flow  as  fast,  and  upbear  us  with 
as  full  a  stream.  I  hoped  we  should  come  in  sight  of  the  rapids 
by  daylight ;  but  the  beautiful  sunset  was  quite  gone,  and  only  a 
young  moon  trembling  over  the  scene,  when  we  came  within 
hearing  of  them. 

I  sat  up  long  to  hear  them  merely.  It  was  a  thoughtful  hour. 
These  two  days,  the  29th  and  30th  of  August,  are  memorable  in 
my  life  ;  the  latter  is  the  birthday  of  a  near  friend.  I  pass  them 
alone,  approaching  Lake  Superior  ;  but  I  shall  not  enter  into  that 
truly  wild  and  free  region  ;  shall  not  have  the.  canoe  voyage, 
whose  daily  adventure,  with  the  camping  out  at  night  beneath  the 
stars,  would  have  given  an  interlude  of  such  value  to  my  exist 
ence.  I  shall  not  see  the  Pictured  Rocks,  their  chapels  and  urns. 
It  did  not  depend  on  me  ;  it  never  has,  whether  such  things  shall 
be  done  or  not. 


THE    LAND    OF   MUSIC.  107 

My  friends  !  may  they  see,  and  do,  and  be  more ;  especially 
those  who  have  before  them  a  greater  number  of  birthdays,  and  a 
more  healthy  and  unfettered  existence ! 

I  should  like  to  hear  some  notes  of  earthly  music  to-night.  By 
the  faint  moonshine  I  can  hardly  see  the  banks  ;  how  they  look  I 
have  no  guess,  except  that  there  are  trees,  and,  now  and  then,  a 
light  lets  me  know  there  are  homes,  with  their  various  interests. 
I  should  like  to  hear  some  strains  of  the  flute  from  beneath  those 
trees,  just  to  break  the  sound  of  the  rapids. 

THE  LAND  OF  MUSIC. 

When  no  gentle  eyebeam  charms  ; 
No  fond  hope  the  bosom  warms ; 
Of  thinking  the  lone  mind  is  tired,  — 
Naught  seems  bright  to  be  desired. 

Music,  be  thy  sails  unfurled; 
Bear  me  to  thy  better  world ; 
O'er  a  cold  and  weltering  sea, 
Blow  thy  breezes  warm  and  free. 

By  sad  sighs  they  ne'er  were  chilled, 
By  sceptic  spell  were  never  stilled. 
Take  me  to  that  far-off  shore, 
Where  lovers  meet  to  part  no  more. 

There  doubt  and  fear  and  sin  are  o'er ; 

The  star  of  love  shall  set  no  more. 

With  the  first  light  of  dawn  I  was  up  and  out,  and  then  was 
glad  I  had  not  seen  all  the  night  before,  it  came  upon  me  with 
such  power  in  its  dewy  freshness.  O,  they  are  beautiful  indeed, 
these  rapids  !  The  grace  is  so  much  more  obvious  than  the 
power.  I  went  up  through  the  old  Chippewa  burying-ground 
to  their  head,  and  sat  down  on  a  large  stone  to  look.  A  little  way 
off  was  one  of  the  home-lodges,  unlike  in  shape  to  the  temporary 
ones  at  Mackinaw,  but  these  have  been  described  by  Mrs.  Jame 
son.  Women,  too,  I  saw  coming  home  from  the  woods,  stooping 
under  great  loads  of  cedar-boughs,  that  were  strapped  upon  their 


108  SUMMER    ON    THE    LAKES. 

backs.  But  in  many  European  countries  women  carry  great 
loads,  even  of  wood,  upon  their  backs.  I  used  to  hear  the  girls 
singing  and  laughing  as  they  were  cutting  down  boughs  at 
Mackinaw ;  this  part  of  their  employment,  though  laborious, 
gives  them  the  pleasure  of  being  a  great  deal  in  the  free  woods. 

I  had  ordered  a  canoe  to  take  me  down  the  rapids,  and 
presently  I  saw  it  coming,  with  the  two  Indian  canoe-men  in 
pink  calico  shirts,  moving  it  about  with  their  long  poles,  with  a 
grace  and  dexterity  worthy  fairy-land.  Now  and  then  they  cast 
the  scoop-net ;  —  all  looked  just  as  I  had  fancied,  only  far  prettier. 

When  they  came  to  me,  they  spread  a  mat  in  the  middle  of 
the  canoe  ;  I  sat  down,  and  in  less  than  four  minutes  we  had 
descended  the  rapids,  a  distance  of  more  than  three  quarters  of 
a  mile.  I  was  somewhat  disappointed  in  this  being  no  more 
of  an  exploit  than  I  found  it.  Having  heard  such  expressions 
used  as  of  "darting,"  or  "shooting  down,"  these  rapids,  1  had 
fancied  there  was  a  wall  of  rock  somewhere,  where  descent 
would  somehow  be  accomplished,  and  that  there  would  come 
some  one  gasp  of  terror  and  delight,  some  sensation  entirely  new 
to  me  ;  but  I  found  myself  in  smooth  water,  before  I  had  time  to 
feel  anything  but  the  buoyant  pleasure  of  being  carried  so  li«rhtly 
through  this  surf  amid  the  breakers.  Now  and  then  the  Indians 
spoke  to  one  another  in  a  vehement  jabber,  which,  however,  had 
no  tone  that  expressed  other  than  pleasant  excitement.  It  is,  no 
doubt,  an  act  of  wonderful  dexterity  to  steer  amid  these  jagged 
rocks,  when  one  rude  touch  would  tear  a  hole  in  the  birch  canoe ; 
but  these  men  are  evidently  so  used  to  doing  it,  and  so  adroit, 
that  the  silliest  person  could  not  feel  afraid.  I  should  like  to 
have  come  down  twenty  times,  that  I  might  have  had  leisure 
to  realize  the  pleasure.  But  the  fog  which  had  detained  us  on  the 
way  shortened  the  boat's  stay  at  the  Sault,  and  I  wanted  my 
time  to  walk  about. 

While  coming  down  the  rapids,  the  Indians  caught  a  white-fish 
for  my  breakfast;  and  certainly  it  was  the  best  of  breakfasts. 
The  white-fish  I  found  quite  another  thing  caught  on  the  spot, 
and  cooked  immediately,  from  what  I  had  found  it  at  Chicago 


DINNERS.  109 

or  Mackinaw.  Before,  I  had  had  the  bad  taste  to  prefer  the 
trout,  despite  the  solemn  and  eloquent  remonstrances  of  the 
habitues,  to  whom  the  superiority  of  white-fish  seemed  a  car 
dinal  point  of  faith. 

I  am  here  reminded  that  I  have  omitted  that  indispensable 
part  of  a  travelling  journal,  the  account  of  what  we  found  to  eat. 
I  cannot  hope  to  make  up,  by  one  bold  stroke,  all  my  omissions 
of  daily  record ;  but  that  I  may  show  myself  not  destitute  of  the 
common  feelings  of  humanity,  I  will  observe  that  he  whose  affec 
tions  turn  in  summer  towards  vegetables  should  not  come  to  this 
region,  till  the  subject  of  diet  be  better  understood ;  that  of  fruit, 
too,  there  is  little  yet,  even  at  the  best  hotel  tables ;  that  the 
prairie  chickens  require  no  praise  from  me,  and  that  the  trout 
and  white-fish  are  worthy  the  transparency  of  the  lake  waters. 

In  this  brief  mention  I  by  no  means  intend  to  give  myself 
an  air  of  superiority  to  the  subject.  If  a  dinner  in  the  Illinois 
woods,  on  dry  bread  and  drier  meat,  with  water  from  the  stream 
that  flowed  hard  by,  pleased  me  best  of  all,  yet,  at  one  time,  when 
living  at  a  house  where  nothing  was  prepared  for  the  table  fit  to 
touch,  and  even  the  bread  could  not  be  partaken  of  without  a 
headache  in  consequence,  I  learnt  to  understand  and  .sympathize 
with  the  anxious  tone  in  which  fathers  of  families,  about  to  take 
their  innocent  children  into  some  scene  of  wild  beauty,  ask  first  of 
all,  "  Is  there  a  good  table  ?  "  I  shall  ask  just  so  in  future.  Only 
those  whom  the  Powers  have  furnished  with  small  travelling 
cases  of  ambrosia  can  take  exercise  all  day*,  and  be  happy 
without  even  bread  morning  or  night. 

Our  voyage  back  was  all  pleasure.  It  was  the  fairest  day.  I 
saw  the  river,  the  islands,  the  clouds,  to  the  greatest  advantage. 

On  board  was  an  old  man,  an  Illinois  farmer,  whom  I  found  a 
most  agreeable  campanion.  He  had  just  been  with  his  son,  and 
eleven  other  young  men,  on  an  exploring  expedition  to  the  shores 
of  Lake  Superior.  He  was  the  only  old  man  of  the  party,  but  he 
had  enjoyed  most  of  any  the  journey.  He  had  been  the  coun 
sellor  and  playmate,  too,  of  the  young  ones.  He  was  one  of  those 
parents  —  why  so  rare  ?  —  who  understand  and  live  a  new  life  in 
10 


110  SUMMER    ON    THE    LAKES. 

that  of  their  children,  instead  of  wasting  time  and  young  happi 
ness  in  trying  to  make  them  conform  to  an  object  and  standard  of 
their  own.  The  character  and  history  of  each  child  may  be  a 
new  and  poetic  experience  to  the  parent,  if  he  will  let  it.  Our 
farmer  was  domestic,  judicious,  solid ;  the  son,  inventive,  enter 
prising,  superficial,  full  of  follies,  full  of  resources,  always 
liable  to  failure,  sure  to  rise  above  it.  The  father  conformed  to, 
and  learnt  from,  a  character  he  could  not  change,  and  won  the 
sweet  from  the  bitter. 

,  His  account  of  his  life  at  home,  and  of  his  late  adventures 
'  among  the  Indians,  was  very  amusing,  but  I  want  talent  to  write 
it  down,  and  I  have  not  heard  the  slang  of  these  people  intimately 
enough.  There  is  a  good  book  about  Indiana,  called  the  New 
Purchase,  written  by  a  person  who  knows  the  people  of  the 
country  well  enough  to  describe  them  in  their  own  way.  It  is 
not  witty,  but  penetrating,  valuable  for  its  practical  wisdom  and 
good-humored  fun. 

There  were  many  sportsman-stories  told,  too,  by  those  from 
Illinois  and  Wisconsin.  I  do  not  retain  any  of  these  well 
enough,  nor  any  that  I  heard  earlier,  to  write  them  down,  though 
they  always  interested  me  from  bringing  wild  natural  scenes 
before  the  mind.  It  is  pleasant  for  the  sportsman  to  be  in 
countries  so  alive  with  game ;  yet  it  is  so  plenty  that  one  would 
think  shooting  pigeons  or  grouse  would  seem  more  like  slaughter, 
than  the  excitement  of  skill  to  a  good  sportsman.  Hunting  the 
deer  is  full  of  adventure,  and  needs  only  a  Scrope  to  describe  it 
to  invest  the  Western  woods  with  historic  associations. 

How  pleasant  it  was  to  sit  and  hear  rough  men  tell  pieces  out 
of  their  own  common  lives,  in  place  of  the  frippery  talk  of  some 
fine  circle  with  its  conventional  sentiment,  and  timid,  second-hand 
criticism.  Free  blew  the  wind,  and  boldly  flowed  the  stream, 
named  for  Mary  mother  mild. 

A  fine  thunder-shower  came  on  in  the  afternoon.  It  cleared  at 
sunset,  just  as  we  came  in  sight  of  beautiful  Mackinaw,  over 
which  a  rainbow  bent  in  promise  of  peace. 

I  have  always  wondered,  in  reading  travels,  at  the  childish  joy 


CANOE   EXCURSION.  Ill 

travellers  felt  at  meeting  people  they  knew,  and  their  sense  of 
loneliness  when  they  did  not,  in  places  where  there  was  every 
thing  new  to  occupy  the  attention.  So  childish,  I  thought,  always 
to  be  longing  for  the  new  in  the  old,  and  the  old  in  the  new.  Yet 
just  such  sadness  I  felt,  when  I  looked  on  the  island  glittering  in 
the  sunset,  canopied  by  the  rainbow,  and  thought  no  friend  would 
welcome  me  there ;  just  such  childish  joy  I  felt  to  see  unex 
pectedly  on  the  landing  the  face  of  one  whom  I  called  friend. 

The  remaining  two  or  three  days  were  delightfully  spent,  in 
walking  or  boating,  or  sitting  at  the  window  to  see  the  Indians  go. 
This  was  not  quite  so  pleasant  as  their  coming  in,  though  ac 
complished  with  the  same  rapidity  ;  a  family  not  taking  half  an 
hour  to  prepare  for  departure,  and  the  departing  canoe  a  beauti 
ful  object.  But  they  left  behind,  on  all  the  shore,  the  blemishes 
of  their  stay,  —  old  rags,  dried  boughs,  fragments  of  food,  the 
marks  of  their  fires.  Nature  likes  to  cover  up  and  gloss  over 
spots  and  scars,  but  it  would  take  her  some  time  to  restore  that 
beach  to  the  state  it  was  in  before  they  came. 

S.  and  I  had  a  mind  for  a  canoe  excursion,  and  we  asked  one 
of  the  traders  to  engage  us  two  good  Indians,  that  would  not  only 
take  us  out,  but  be  sure  and  bring  us  back,  as  we  could  not  hold 
converse  with  them.  Two  others  offered  their  aid,  beside  the 
chiefs  son,  a  fine-looking  youth  of  about  sixteen,  richly  dressed 
in  blue  broadcloth,  scarlet  sash  and  leggins,  with  a  scarf  of 
brighter  red  than  the  rest,  tied  around  his  head,  its  ends  falling 
gracefully  on  one  shoulder.  They  thought  it,  apparently,  fine 
amusement  to  be  attending  two  white  women  ;  they  carried  us 
into  the  path  of  the  steamboat,  which  was  going  out,  and  paddled 
with  all  their  force,  —  rather  too  fast,  indeed,  for  there  was  some 
thing  of  a  swell  on  the  lake,  and  they  sometimes  threw  water 
into  the  canoe.  However,  it  flew  over  the  waves,  light  as  a  sea 
gull.  They  would  say,  "Pull  away,"  and  "Ver'  warm,"  and, 
after  these  words,  would  laugh  gayly.  They  enjoyed  the  hour,  I 
believe,  as  much  as  we. 

The  house  where  we  lived  belonged  to  the  widow  of  a  French 
trader,  an  Indian  by  birth,  and  wearing  the  dress  of  her  country. 


112  SUMMER    ON    THE    LAKES. 

She  spoke  French  fluently,  and  was  very  ladylike  in  her  man 
ners.  She  is  a  great  character  among  them.  They  were  all 
the  time  coming  to  pay  her  homage,  or  to  get  her  aid  and  advice ; 
for  she  is,  I  am  told,  a  shrewd  woman  of  business.  My  com 
panion  carried  about  her  sketch-book  with  her,  and  the  Indians 
were  interested  when  they  saw  her  using  her  pencil,  though  less 
so  than  about  the  sun-shade.  This  lady  of  the  tribe  wanted  to 
borrow  the  sketches  of  the  beach,  with  its  lodges  and  wild  groups, 
"  to  show  to  the  savages"  she  said. 

Of  the  practical  ability  of  the  Indian  women,  a  good  specimen 
is  given  by  McKenney,  in  an  amusing  story  of  one  who  went  to 
Washington,  and  acted  her  part  there  in  the  "  first  circles,"  with  a 
tact  and  sustained  dissimulation  worthy  of  Cagliostro.  She  seemed 
to  have  a  thorough  love  of  intrigue  for  its  own  sake,  and  much 
dramatic  talent.  Like  the  chiefs  of  her  nation,  when  on  an  ex 
pedition  among  the  foe,  whether  for  revenge  or  profit,  no  impulses 
of  vanity  or  way-side  seductions  had  power  to  turn  her  aside  from 
carrying  out  her  plan  as  she  had  originally  projected  it. 

Although  I  have  little  to  tell,  I  feel  that  I  have  learnt  a  great 
deal  of  the  Indians,  from  observing  them  even  in  this  broken 
and  degraded  condition.  There  is  a  language  of  eye  and  motion 
which  cannot  be  put  into  words,  and  which  teaches  what  words 
never  can.  I  feel  acquainted  with  the  soul  of  this  race  ;  I  read 
its  nobler  thought  in  their  defaced  figures.  There  was  a  great 
ness,  unique  and  precious,  which  he  who  does  not  feel  will  never 
duly  appreciate  the  majesty  of  nature  in  this  American  continent. 

I  have  mentioned  that  the  Indian  orator,  who  addressed  the 
agents  on  this  occasion,  said,  the  difference  between  the  white 
man  and  the  red  man  is  this  :  "  The  white  man  no  sooner  came 
here,  than  he  thought  of  preparing  the  way  for  his  posterity  ;  the 
red  man  never  thought  of  this."  I  was  assured  this  was  exactly 
his  phrase  ;  and  it  defines  the  true  difference.  We  get  the  better 
because  we  do 

"  Look  before  and  after." 

But,  from  the  same  cause,  we 

"  Pine  for  what  is  not." 


GENERAL    HULL.  113 

The  red  man,  when  happy,  was  thoroughly  happy ;  when  good, 
was  simply  good.  He  needed  the  medal,  to  let  him  know  that  he 
was  good. 

These  evenings  we  were  happy,  looking  over  the  old-fashioned 
garden,  over  the  beach,  over  the  waters  and  pretty  island  opposite, 
beneath  the  growing  moon.  We  did  not  stay  to  see  it  full  at 
Mackinaw ;  at  two  o'clock  one  night,  or  rather  morning,  the 
Great  Western  came  snorting  in,  and  we  must  go ;  and  Mack 
inaw,  and  all  the  Northwest  summer,  is  now  to  me  no  more  than 
picture  and  dream  :  — 
• 

"A  dream  within  a  dream." 

These  last  days  at  Mackinaw  have  been  pleasanter  than  the 
"  lonesome  "  nine,  for  I  have  recovered  the  companion  with  whom 
I  set  out  from  the  East,  — one  who  sees  all,  prizes  all,  enjoys  much, 
interrupts  never. 

At  Detroit  we  stopped  for  half  a  day.  This  place  is  famous  in 
our  history,  and  the  unjust  anger  at  its  surrender  is  still  expressed 
by  almost  every  one  who  passes  there.  I  had  always  shared  the 
common  feeling  on  this  subject;  for  the  indignation  at  a  disgrace  to 
our  arms  that  seemed  so  unnecessary  has  been  handed  down  from 
father  to  child,  and  few  of  us  have  taken  the  pains  to  ascertain 
where  the  blame  lay.  But  now,  upon  the  spot,  having  read  all 
the  testimony,  I  felt  convinced  that  it  should  rest  solely  with  the 
government,  which,  by  neglecting  to  sustain  General  Hull,  as  he 
had  a  right  to  expect  they  would,  compelled  him  to  take  this  step, 
or  sacrifice  many  lives,  and  of  the  defenceless  inhabitants,  not  of 
soldiers,  to  the  cruelty  of  a  savage  foe,  for  the  sake  of  his  repu 
tation. 

I  am  a  woman,  and  unlearned  in  such  affairs ;  but,  to  a  person 
with  common  sense  and  good  eyesight,  it  is  clear,  when  viewing 
the  location,  that,  under  the  circumstances,  he  had  no  prospect  of 
successful  defence,  and  that  to  attempt  it  would  have  been  an  act 
of  vanity,  not  valor. 

I  feel  that  I  am  not  biassed  in  this  judgment  by  my  personal 
relations,  for  I  have  always  heard  both  sides,  and  though  my  feel- 
10* 


114  SUMMER    ON    THE   LAKES. 

ings  had  been  moved  by  the  picture  of  the  old  man  sitting  down, 
in  the  midst  of  his  children,  to  a  retired  and  despoiled  old  age, 
after  a  life  of  honor  and  happy  intercourse  with  the  public,  yet 
tranquil,  always  secure  that  justice  must  be  done  at  last,  I  sup 
posed,  like  others,  that  he  deceived  himself,  and  deserved  to  pay 
the  penalty  for  failure  to  the  responsibility  he  had  undertaken. 
Now,  on  the  spot,  I  change,  and  believe  the  country  at  large  must, 
erelong,  change  from  this  opinion.  And  I  wish  to  add  my  testi 
mony,  however  trifling  its  weight,  before  it  be  drowned  in  the 
voice  of  general  assent,  that  I  may  do  some  justice  to  the  feelings 
which  possess  me  here  and  now. 

A  noble  boat,  the  Wisconsin,  was  to  be  launched  this  after 
noon  ;  the  whole  town  was  out  in  many-colored  array,  the  band 
playing.  Our  boat  swept  round  to  a  good  position,  and  all  was 
ready  but  —  the  Wisconsin,  which  could  not  be  made  to  stir.  This 
was  quite  a  disappointment.  It  would  have  been  an  imposing  sight. 

In  the  boat  many  signs  admonished  that  we  were  floating  east 
ward.  A  shabbily-dressed  phrenologist  laid  his  hand  on  every 
head  which  would  bend,  with  half-conceited,  half-sheepish  expres 
sion,  to  the  trial  of  his  skill.  Knots  of  people  gathered  here  and 
there  to  discuss  points  of  theology.  A  bereaved  lover  was  seek 
ing  religious  consolation  in  —  Butler's  Analogy,  which  he  had 
purchased  for  that  purpose.  However,  he  did  not  turn  over 
many  pages  before  his  attention  was  drawn  aside  by  the  gay 
glances  of  certain  damsels  that  came  on  board  at  Detroit,  and, 
though  Butler  might  afterwards  be  seen  sticking  from  his  pocket, 
it  had  not  weight  to  impede  him  from  many  a  feat  of  lightness  and 
liveliness.  I  doubt  if  it  went  with  him  from  the  boat.  Some  there 
were,  even,  discussing  the  doctrines  of  Fourier.  It  seemed  pity 
they  were  not  going  to,  rather  than  from,  the  rich  and  free  country 
where  it  would  be  so  much  easier  than  with  us  to  try  the  great 
experiment  of  voluntary  association,  and  show  beyond  a  doubt 
that  "  an  ounce  of  prevention  is  worth  a  pound  of  cure,"  a  maxim 
of  the  "  wisdom  of  nations  "  which  has  proved  of  Httle  practical 
efficacy  as  yet. 

Better  to  stop  before  landing  at  Buffalo,  while  I  have  yet  the 
advantage  over  some  of  my  readers. 


THE  BOOK  TO  THE  READER.  115 

THE  BOOK  TO  THE  KEADER, 

WHO  OPENS,  AS  AMERICAN   READERS   OFTEN  DO,  —  AT  THE  END. 

To  see  your  cousin  in  her  country  home, 

If  at  the  time  of  blackberries  you  come, 

"  Welcome,  my  friends,"  she  cries  with  ready  glee, 

"  The  fruit  is  ripened,  and  the  paths  are  free. 

But,  madam,  you  will  tear  that  handsome  gown ; 

The  little  boy  be  sure  to  tumble  down  ; 

"And,  in  the  thickets  where  they  ripen  best, 

The  matted  ivy,  too,  its  bower  has  drest. 

And  then  the  thorns  your  hands  are  sure  to  rend, 

Unless  with  heavy  gloves  you  will  defend ; 

Amid  most  thorns  the  sweetest  roses  blow, 

Amid  most  thorns  the  sweetest  berries  grow." 

If,  undeterred,  you  to  the  fields  must  go, 

You  tear  your  dresses  and  you  scratch  your  hands ; 

But,  in  the  places  where  the  berries  grow, 
A  sweeter  fruit  the  ready  sense  commands, 

Of  wild,  gay  feelings,  fancies  springing  sweet,  — 

Of  bird-like  pleasures,  fluttering  and  fleet. 

Another  year,  you  cannot  go  yourself, 

To  win  the  berries  from  the  thickets  wild, 
And  housewife  skill,  instead,  has  filled  the  shelf 

With  blackberry  jam,  "  by  best  receipts  compiled,  — 
Not  made  with  country  sugar,  for  too  strong 
The  flavors  that  to  maple-juice  belong; 
But  foreign  sugar,  nicely  mixed  '  to  suit 
The  taste,'  spoils  not  the  fragrance  of  the  fruit." 

"  'T  is  pretty  good,"  half-tasting,  you  reply, 
"  I  scarce  should  know  it  from  fresh  blackberry. 
But  the  best  pleasure  such  a  fruit  can  yield 
Is  to  be  gathered  in  the  open  field  ; 


116  SUMMER    ON   THE    LAKES. 

If  only  as  an  article  of  food, 

Cherry  or  crab-apple  is  quite  as  good ; 

And,  for  occasions  of  festivity, 

West  India  sweetmeats  you  had  better  buy." 

Thus,  such  a  dish  of  homely  sweets  as  these 
In  neither  way  may  chance  the  taste  to  please. 

Yet  try  a  little  with  the  evening-bread ; 
Bring  a  good  needle  for  the  spool  of  thread ; 
Take  fact  with  fiction,  silver  with  the  lead, 
And,  at  the  mint,  you  can  get  gold  instead ; 
In  fine,  read  me,  even  as  you  would  be  read. 


PART   II. 

THINGS   AND   THOUGHTS   IN  EUROPE. 


LETTER    I. 

Passage  in  the  Cambria.  —  Lord  and  Lady  Falkland.  —  Captain  Judkins.  —  Liv 
erpool.  —  Manchester.  —  Mechanics'  Institute.  —  "  The  Dial."  —  Peace  and 
War.  —  The  Working-Men  of  England.  —  Their  Tribute  to  Sir  Robert  Peel.  — 
The  Royal  Institute.  —  Statues.  —  Chester.  —  Bathing. 

Ambleside,  Westmoreland,  23d  August,  1846. 

I  TAKE  the  first  interval  of  rest  and  stillness  to  be  filled  up  by 
some  lines  for  the  Tribune.  Only  three  weeks  have  passed  since 
leaving  New  York,  but  I  have  already  had  nine  days  of  wonder 
in  England,  and,  having  learned  a  good  deal,  suppose  I  may  have 
something  to  tell. 

Long  before  receiving  this,  you  know  that  we  were  fortunate  in 
the  shortest  voyage  ever  made  across  the  Atlantic,*  —  only  ten 
days  and  sixteen  hours  from  Boston  to  Liverpool.  The  weather 
and  all  circumstances  were  propitious  ;  and,  if  some  of  us  were 
weak  of  head  enough  to  suffer  from  the  smell  and  jar  of  the  ma 
chinery,  or  other  ills  by  which  the  sea  is  wont  to  avenge  itself  on 
the  arrogance  of  its  vanquishers,  we  found  no  pity.  The  stew 
ardess  observed  that  she  thought  "  any  one  tempted  God  Almighty 
who  complained  on  a  voyage  where  they  did  not  even  have  to  put 
guards  to  the  dishes  "  ! 

As  many  contradictory  counsels  were  given  us  with  regard  to 
going  in  one  of  the  steamers  in  preference  to  a  sailing  vessel,  I 
will  mention  here,  for  the  benefit  of  those  who  have  not  yet  tried 
one,  that  he  must  be  fastidious  indeed  \vho  could  complain  of  the 
Cambria.  The  advantage  of  a  quick  passage  and  certainty  as  to 

*  True  at  the  tune  these  Letters  were  written.  —  ED. 


120  THINGS    AND    THOUGHTS    IN    EUROPE. 

the  time  of  arrival,  would,  with  us,  have  outweighed  many  ills ; 
but,  apart  from  this,  we  found  more  space  than  we  expected  and 
as  much  as  we  needed  for  a  very  tolerable  degree  of  convenience 
in  our  sleeping-rooms,  better  ventilation  than  Americans  in  gen 
eral  can  be  persuaded  to  accept,  general  cleanliness,  and  good  at 
tendance.  In  the  evening,  when  the  wind  was  favorable,  and  the 
sails  set,  so  that  the  vessel  looked  like  a  great  winged  creature 
darting  across  the  apparently  measureless  expanse,  the  effect  was 
very  grand,  but  ah!  for  such  a  spectacle  one  pays  too  dear;  I  far 
prefer  looking  out  upon  "  the  blue  and  foaming  sea  "  from  a  firm 
green  shore. 

Our  ship's  company  numbered  several  pleasant  members,  and 
that  desire  prevailed  in  each  to  contribute  to  the  satisfaction  of  all, 
which,  if  carried  out  through  the  voyage  of  life,  would  make  this 
earth  as  happy  as  it  is  a  lovely  abode.  At  Halifax  we  took  in 
the  Governor  of  Nova  Scotia,  returning  from  his  very  unpopular 
administration.  His  lady  was  with  him,  a  daughter  of  William 
the  Fourth  and  the  celebrated  Mrs.  Jordan.  The  English  on 
board,  and  the  Americans,  following  their  lead,  as  usual,  seemed 
to  attach  much  importance  to  her  left-handed  alliance  with  one  of 
the  dullest  families  that  ever  sat  upon  a  throne,  (and  that  is  a  bold 
word,  too,)  none  to  her  descent  from  one  whom  Nature  had  en 
dowed  with  her  most  splendid  regalia,  —  genius  that  fascinated  the 
attention  of  all  kinds  and  classes  of  men,  grace  and  winning  qual 
ities  that  no  heart  could  resist.  Was  the  cestus  buried  with  her, 
that  no  sense  of  its  pre-eminent  value  lingered,  as  far  as  I  could 
perceive,  in  the  thoughts  of  any  except  myself? 

We  had  a  foretaste  of  the  delights  of  living  under  an  aristo- 
cratical  government  at  the  Custom-House,  where  our  baggage 
was  detained,  and  we  waiting  for  it  weary  hours,  because  of  the 
preference  given  to  the  mass  of  household  stuff  carried  back  by 
this  same  Lord  and  Lady  Falkland. 

Captain  Judkins  of  the  Cambria,  an  able  and  prompt  com 
mander,  is  the  man  who  insisted  upon  Douglass  being  admitted 
to  equal  rights  upon  his  deck  with  the  insolent  slave-holders,  and 
assumed  a  tone  toward  their  assumptions,  which,  if  the  Northern 


MECHANICS'  INSTITUTE.  121 

States  had  had  the  firmness,  good  sense,  and  honor  to  use,  would 
have  had  the  same  effect,  and  put  our  country  in  a  very  different 
position  from  that  she  occupies  at  present.  He  mentioned  with 
pride  that  he  understood  the  New  York  Herald  called  him  "  the 
Nigger  Captain,"  and  seemed  as  willing  to  accept  the  distinction 
as  Colonel  McKenney  is  to  wear  as  his  last  title  that  of  "  the  In 
dian's  friend." 

At  the  first  sight  of  the  famous  Liverpool  Docks,  extending 
miles  on  each  side  of  our  landing,  we  felt  ourselves  in  a  slower, 
solider,  and  not  on  that  account  less  truly  active,  state  of  things 
than  at  home.  That  impression  is  confirmed.  There  is  not  as 
we  travel  that  rushing,  tearing,  and  swearing,  that  snatching  of 
baggage,  that  prodigality  of  shoe-leather  and  lungs,  which  attend 
the  course  of  the  traveller  in  the  United  States  ;  but  we  do  not 
lose  our  "  goods,"  we  do  not  miss  our  car.  The  dinner,  if  ordered 
in  time,  is  cooked  properly,  and  served  punctually,  and  at  the  end 
of  the  day  more  that  is  permanent  seems  to  have  come  of  it  than 
on  the  full-drive  system.  But  more  of  this,  and  with  a  better 
grace,  at  a  later  day. 

The  day  after  our  arrival  we  went  to  Manchester.     There  we 

went  over  the  magnificent  warehouse  of Phillips,  in  itself  a 

Bazaar  ample  to  furnish  provision  for  all  the  wants  and  fancies 
of  thousands.  In  the  evening  we  went  to  the  Mechanics'  Insti 
tute,  and  saw  the  boys  and  young  men  in  their  classes.  I  have 
since  visited  the  Mechanics'  Institute  at  Liverpool,  where  more 
than  seventeen  hundred  pupils  are  received,  and  with  more  thor 
ough  educational  arrangements  ;  but  the  excellent  spirit,  the  de 
sire  for  growth  in  wisdom  and  enlightened  benevolence,  is  the 
same  in  both.  For  a  very  small  fee,  the  mechanic,  clerk,  or  ap 
prentice,  and  the  women  of  their  families,  can  receive  various  good 
and  well-arranged  instruction,  not  only  in  common  branches  of  an 
English  education,  but  in  mathematics,  composition,  the  French 
and  German  languages,  the  practice  and  theory  of  the  Fine  Arts, 
and  they  are  ardent  in  availing  themselves  of  instruction  in  the 
higher  branches.  I  found  large  classes,  not  only  in  architectural 
drawing,  which  may  be  supposed  to  be  followed  with  a  view  to 
11 


122  THINGS    AND    THOUGHTS    IN    EUROPE. 

professional  objects,  but  landscape  also,  and  as  large  in  German 
as  in  French.  They  can  attend  many  good  lectures  and  concerts 
without  additional  charge,  for  a  due  place  is  here  assigned  to  mu 
sic  as  to  its  influence  on  the  whole  mind.  The  large  and  well- 
furnished  libraries  are  in  constant  requisition,  and  the  books  in 
most  constant  demand  are  not  those  of  amusement,  but  of  a  solid 
and  permanent  interest  and  value.  Only  for  the  last  year  in 
Manchester,  and  for  two  in  Liverpool,  have  these  advantages  been 
extended  to  girls  ;  but  now  that  part  of  the  subject  is  looked  upon 
as  it  ought  to  be,  and  begins  to  be  treated  more  and  more  as  it 
must  and  will  be  wherever  true  civilization  is  making  its  way. 
One  of  the  handsomest  houses  in  Liverpool  has  been  purchased 
for  the  girls'  school,  and  room  and  good  arrangement  been  af 
forded  for  their  work  and  their  play.  Among  other  things  they 
are  taught,  as  they  ought  to  be  in  all  American  schools,  to  cut  out 
and  make  dresses. 

I  had  the  pleasure  of  seeing  quotations  made  from  our  Boston 
"  Dial,"  in  the  address  in  which  the  Director  of  the  Liverpool 
Institute,  a  very  benevolent  and  intelligent  man,  explained  to  his 
disciples  and  others  its  objects,  and  which  concludes  thus :  — 

"  But  this  subject  of  self-improvement  is  inexhaustible.  If 
traced  to  its  results  in  action,  it  is,  in  fact,  '  The  Whole  Duty  of 
Man.'  What  of  detail  it  involves  and  implies,  I  know  that  you 
will,  each  and  all,  think  out  for  yourselves.  Beautifully  has  it 
been  said :  *  Is  not  the  difference  between  spiritual  and  material 
things  just  this,  —  that  in  the  one  case  we  must  watch  details,  in 
the  other,  keep  alive  the  high  resolve,  and  the  details  will  take 
care  of  themselves  ?  Keep  the  sacred  central  fire  burning,  and 
throughout  the  system,  in  each  of  its  acts,  will  be  warmth  and 
glow  enough.'  * 

"  For  myself,  if  I  be  asked  what  my  purpose  is  in  relation  to  you, 
I  would  briefly  reply,  It  is  that  I  may  help,  be  it  ever  so  feebly, 
to  train  up  a  race  of  young  men,  who  shall  escape  vice  by  rising 
above  it ;  who  shall  love  truth  because  it  is  truth,  not  because  it 

*  The  Dial,  Vol.  I.  p.  188,  October,  1840,  "  Musings  of  a  Recluse." 


PEACE    AND    WAR.  123 

brings  them  wealth  or  honor ;  who  shall  regard  life  as  a  solemn 
tiling,  involving  too  weighty  responsibilities  to  be  wasted  in  idle 
or  frivolous  pursuits ;  who  shall  recognize  in  their  daily  labors, 
not  merely  a  tribute  to  the  "  hard  necessity  of  daily  bread,"  but  a 
field  for  the  development  of  their  better  nature  by  the  discharge 
of  duty  ;  who  shall  judge  in  all  things  for  themselves,  bowing  the 
knee  to  no  sectarian  or  party  watchwords  of  any  kind ;  and  who, 
while  they  think  for  themselves,  shall  feel  for  others,  and  regard 
their  talents,  their  attainments,  their  opportunities,  their  posses 
sions,  as  blessings  held  in  trust  for  the  good  of  their  fellow-men." 
I  found  that  The  Dial  had  been  read  with  earnest  interest  by 
some  of  the  best  minds  in  these  especially  practical  regions,  that 
it  had  been  welcomed  as  a  representative  of  some  sincere  and 
honorable  life  in  America,  and  thought  the  fittest  to  be  quoted  un 
der  this  motto :  — 

"  What  are  noble  deeds  but  noble  thoughts  realized?  " 

Among  other  signs  of  the  times  we  bought  Bradshaw's  Railway 
Guide,  and,  opening  it,  found  extracts  from  the  writings  of  our 
countrymen,  Elihu  Burritt  and  Charles  Sumner,  on  the  subject 
of  Peace,  occupying  a  leading  place  in  the  "  Collect,"  for  the 
month,  of  this  little  hand-book,  more  likely,  in  an  era  like  ours, 
to  influence  the  conduct  of  the  day  than  would  an  illuminated 
breviary.  Now  that  peace  is  secured  for  the  present  between  our 
two  countries,  the  spirit  is  not  forgotten  that  quelled  the  storm. 
Greeted  on  every  side  with  expressions  of  feeling  about  the  bless 
ings  of  peace,  the  madness  and  wickedness  of  war,  that  would  be 
deemed  romantic  in  our  darker  land,  I  have  answered  to  the 
speakers,  "  But  you  are  mightily  pleased,  and  illuminate  for  your 
victories  in  China  and  Ireland,  do  you  not  ? "  and  they,  unpro 
voked  by  the  taunt,  would  mildly  reply,  "  We  do  not,  but  it  is  too 
true  that  a  large  part  of  the  nation  fail  to  bring  home  the  true 
nature  and  bearing  of  those  events,  and  apply  principle  to  con 
duct  with  as  much  justice  as  they  do  in  the  case  of  a  nation  nearer 
to  them  by  kindred  and  position.  But  we  are  sure  that  feeling 
is  growing  purer  on  the  subject  day  by  day,  and  that  there  will 


124  THINGS    AND    THOUGHTS    IN    EUROPE. 

soon  be  a  large  majority  against  war  on  any  occasion  or  for  any 
object." 

I  heard  a  most  interesting  letter  read  from  a  tradesman  in  one 
of  the  country  towns,  whose  daughters  are  self-elected  instructors 
of  the  people  in  the  way  of  cutting  out  from  books  and  pamphlets 
fragments  on  the  great  subjects  of  the  day,  which  they  send  about 
in  packages,  or  paste  on  walls  and  doors.  He  said  that  one  such 
passage,  pasted  on  a  door,  he  had  seen  read  with  eager  interest  by 
hundreds  to  whom  such  thoughts  were,  probably,  quite  new,  and 
with  some  of  whom  it  could  scarcely  fail  to  be  as  a  little  seed  of  a 
large  harvest.  Another  good  omen  I  found  in  written  tracts  by 
Joseph  Barker,  a  working-man  of  the  town  of  Wortley,  published 
through  his  own  printing-press. 

How  great,  how  imperious  the  need  of  such  men,  of  such  deeds, 
we  felt  more  than  ever,  while  compelled  to  turn  a  deaf  ear  to  the 
squalid  and  shameless  beggars  of  Liverpool,  or  talking  by  night 
in  the  streets  of  Manchester  to  the  girls  from  the  Mills,  who  were 
strolling  bareheaded,  with  coarse,  rude,  and  reckless  air,  through 
the  streets,  or  seeing  through  the  windows  of  the  gin-palaces  the 
women  seated  drinking,  too  dull  to  carouse.  The  homes  of  Eng 
land  !  their  sweetness  is  melting  into  fable  ;  only  the  new  Spirit  in 
its  holiest  power  can  restore  to  those  homes  their  boasted  security 
of  "  each  man's  castle,"  for  Woman,  the  warder,  is  driven  into 
the  street,  and  has  let  fall  the  keys  in  her  sad  plight.  Yet  dark 
est  hour  of  night  is  nearest  dawn,  and  there  seems  reason  to 
believe  that 

"  There  's  a  good  time  coming." 

Blest  be  those  who  aid,  who  doubt  not  that 

"  Smallest  helps,  if  rightly  given, 
Make  the  impulse  stronger ; 
'T  will  be  strong  enough  one  day." 

Other  things  we  saw  in  Liverpool,  —  the  Royal  Institute,  with 
the  statue  of  Eoscoe  by  Chantrey,  and  in  its  collection  from  the 
works  of  the  early  Italian  artists,  and  otherwise,  bearing  traces  of 
that  liberality  and  culture  by  which  the  man,  happy  enough  to 


CHESTER.  125 

possess  them,  and  at  the  same  time  engaged  with  his  fellow- 
citizens  in  practical  life,  can  do  so  much  more  to  enlighten  and 
form  them  than  prince  or  noble  possibly  can  with  far  larger 
pecuniary  means.  We  saw  the  statue  of  Huskisson  in  the  Cem 
etery.  It  is  fine  as  a  portrait  statue,  but  as  a  work  of  art  wants 
firmness  and  grandeur.  I  say  it  is  fine  as  a  portrait  statue,  though 
we  were  told  it  is  not  like  the  original ;  but  it  is  a  good  conception 
of  an  individuality  which  might  exist,  if  it  does  not  yet.  It  is  by 
Gibson,  who  received  his  early  education  in  Liverpool.  I  saw 
there,  too,  the  body  of  an  infant  borne  to  the  grave  by  women ; 
for  it  is  a  beautiful  custom  here,  that  those  who  have  fulfilled  all 
other  tender  offices  to  the  little  being  should  hold  to  it  the  same 
relation  to  the  very  last. 

From  Liverpool  we  went  to  Chester,  one  of  the  oldest  cities  in 
England,  a  Roman  station  once,  and  abode  of  the  "  Twentieth  Le 
gion,"  "  the  Victorious."  Tiles  bearing  this  inscription,  heads  of 
Jupiter,  and  other  marks  of  their  occupation,  have,  not  long  ago, 
been  detected  beneath  the  sod.  The  town  also  bears  the  marks 
of  Welsh  invasion  and  domestic  struggles.  The  shape  of  a  cross 
in  which  it  is  laid  out,  its  walls  and  towers,  its  four  arched  gate 
ways,  itd  ramparts  and  ruined  towers,  mantled  with  ivy,  its  old 
houses  with  Biblical  inscriptions,  its  cathedral,  —  in  which  tall 
trees  have  grown  up  amid  the  arches,  a  fresh  garden-plot,  with 
flowers,  bright  green  and  red,  taken  place  of  the  altar,  and  a 
crowd  of  revelling  swallows  supplanted  the  sallow  choirs  of  a  for 
mer  priesthood,  —  present  a  tout-ensemble  highly  romantic  in  it 
self,  and  charming,  indeed,  to  Transatlantic  eyes.  Yet  not  to  all 
eyes  -would  it  have  had  charms,  for  one  American  traveller,  our 
companion  on  the  voyage,  gravely  assured  us  that  we  should  find 
the  "  castles  and  that  sort  of  thing  all  humbug,"  and  that,  if  we 
wished  to  enjoy  them,  it  would  "  be  best  to  sit  at  home  and  read 
some  handsome  work  on  the  subject." 

At  the  hotel  in  Liverpool  and  that  in  Manchester  I  had  found 

no  bath,  and  asking  for  one  at  Chester,  the  chambermaid  said,  with 

earnest  good-will,  that  "  they  had  none,  but  she  thought  she  could 

get  me  a  note  from  her  master  to  the  Infirmary  (! !)  if  I  would  go 

11* 


126  THINGS    AND    THOUGHTS    IN    EUROPE. 

there."  Luckily  I  did  not  generalize  quite  as  rapidly  as  travel 
lers  in  America  usually  do,  and  put  in  the  note-book, —  "  Mem. : 
None  but  the  sick  ever  bathe  in  England  "  ;  for  in  the  next  es 
tablishment  we  tried,  I  found  the  plentiful  provision  for  a  clean 
and  healthy  day,  which  I  had  read  would  be  met  everywhere  in 
this  country. 

All  else  I  must  defer  to  my  next,  as  the  mail  is  soon  to  close. 


LETTER    II. 

Chester.  —  Its  Museum.  —  Travelling  Companions.  —  A  Bengalese.  —  Westmore 
land.  —  Ambleside.  —  Cobden  and  Bright.  —  A  Scotch  Lady.  —  Wordsworth. 
—  His  Flowers.  —  Miss  Martineau. 

Ambleside,  Westmoreland,  27th  August,  1846. 

I  FORGOT  to  mention,  in  writing  of  Chester,  an  object  which  gave 
me  pleasure.  I  mentioned  that  the  wall  which  enclosed  the  old 
town  was  two  miles  in  circumference ;  far  beyond  this  stretches 
the  modern  part  of  Chester,  and  the  old  gateways  now  overarch 
the  middle  of  long  streets.  This  wall  is  now  a  walk  for  the  inhab 
itants,  comman.ding  a  wide  prospect,  and  three  persons  could  walk 
abreast  on  its  smooth  flags.  We  passed  one  of  its  old  picturesque 
towers,  from  whose  top  Charles  the  First,  poor,  weak,  unhappy 
king,  looked  down  and  saw  his  troops  defeated  by  the  Parliamen 
tary  army  on  the  adjacent  plain.  A  little  farther  on,  one  of  these 
picturesque  towers  is  turned  to  the  use  of  a  Museum,  whose  stock, 
though  scanty,  I  examined  with  singular  pleasure,  for  it  had  been 
made  up  by  truly  filial  contributions  from  all  who  had  derived 
benefit  from  Chester,  from  the  Marquis  of  Westminster  —  whose 
magnificent  abode,  Eton  Hall,  lies  not  far  off  —  down  to  the  mer 
chant's  clerk,  who  had  furnished  it  in  his  leisure  hours  with  a 
geological  chart,  the  soldier  and  sailor,  who  sent  back  shells,  in 
sects,  and  petrifactions  from  their  distant  wanderings,  and  a  boy 
of  thirteen,  who  had  made,  in  wood,  a  model  of  its  cathedral,  and 
even  furnished  it  with  a  bell  to  ring  out  the  evening  chimes. 
Many  women  had  been  busy  in  filling  these  magazines  for  the  in 
struction  and  the  pleasure  of  their  fellow-townsmen.  Lady , 

the  wife  of  the  captain  of  the  garrison,  grateful  for  the  gratuitous 
admission  of  the  soldiers  once  a  month,  —  a  privilege  of  which 


128  THINGS    AND    THOUGHTS    IN    EUROPE. 

the  keeper  of  the  Museum  (a  woman  also,  who  took  an  intelli 
gent  pleasure  in  her  task)  assured  me  that  they  were  eager  to 
avail  themselves,  —  had  given  a  fine  collection  of  butterflies,  and 
a  ship.  An  untiring  diligence  had  been  shown  in  adding  whatever 
might  stimulate  or  gratify  imperfectly  educated  minds.  I  like  to 
see  women  perceive  that  there  are  other  ways  of  doing  good  be 
sides  making  clothes  for  the  poor  or  teaching  Sunday-school ; 
these  are  well,  if  well  directed,  but  there  are  many  other  ways, 
some  as  sure  and  surer,  and  which  benefit  the  giver  no  less  than 
the  receiver. 

I  was  waked  from  sleep  at  the  Chester  Inn  by  a  loud  dispute 
between  the  chambermaid  and  an  unhappy  elderly  gentleman, 
who  insisted  that  he  had  engaged  the  room  in  which  I  was,  had 
returned  to  sleep  in  it,  and  consequently  must  do  so.  To  her  as 
surances  that  the  lady  was  long  since  in  possession,  he  was  deaf ; 
but  the  lock,  fortunately  for  me,  proved  a  stronger  defence.  With 
all  a  chambermaid's  morality,  the  maiden  boasted  to  me,  "  He 
said  he  had  engaged  44,  and  would  not  believe  me  when  I  as 
sured  him  it  was  46  ;  indeed,  how  could  he  ?  I  did  not  believe 
myself."  To  my  assurance  that,  if  I  had  known  the  room  was 
his,  I  should  not  have  wished  for  it,  but  preferred  taking  a  worse, 
I  found  her  a  polite  but  incredulous  listener. 

Passing  from  Liverpool  to  Lancaster  by  railroad,  that  conven 
ient  but  most  unprofitable  and  stupid  way  of  travelling,  we  there 
took  the  canal-boat  to  Kendal,  and  passed  pleasantly  through  a 
country  of  that  soft,  that  refined  and  cultivated  loveliness,  which, 
however  much  we  have  heard  of  it,  finds  the  American  eye  — 
accustomed  to  so  much  wildness,  so  much  rudeness,  such  a  cor 
rosive  action  of  man  upon  nature  —  wholly  unprepared.  I  feel 
all  the  time  as  if  in  a  sweet  dream,  and  dread  to  be  presently 
awakened  by  some  rude  jar  or  glare ;  but  none  comes,  and  here  in 
Westmoreland  —  but  wait  a  moment,  before  we  speak  of  that. 

In  the  canal-boat  we  found  two  well-bred  English  gentlemen, 
and  two  well-informed  German  gentlemen,  with  whom  we  had 
some  agreeable  talk.  With  one  of  the  former  was  a  beautiful 
youth,  about  eighteen,  whom  I  supposed,  at  the  first  glance,  to  be 


REFORMERS.  129 

a  type  of  that  pure  East-Indian  race  whose  beauty  I  had  never 
seen  represented  before  except  in  pictures  ;  and  he  made  a  picture, 
from  which  I  could  scarcely  take  my  eyes  a  moment,  and  from  it 
could  as  ill  endure  to  part.  He  was  dressed  in  a  broadcloth  robe 
richly  embroidered,  leaving  his  throat  and  the  upper  part  of  his 
neck  bare,  except  that  he  wore  a  heavy  gold  chain.  A  rich 
shawl  was  thrown  gracefully  around  him ;  the  sleeves  of  his  robe 
were  loose,  with  white  sleeves  below.  He  wore  a  black  satin 
cap.  The  whole  effect  of  this  dress  was  very  fine  yet  simple, 
setting  off  to  the  utmost  advantage  the  distinguished  beauty  of  his 
features,  in  which  there  was  a  mingling  of  national  pride,  volup 
tuous  sweetness  in  that  unconscious  state  of  reverie  when  it  affects 
us  as  it  does  in  the  flower,  and  intelligence  in  its  newly  awakened 
purity.  As  he  turned  his  head,  his  profile  was  like  one  I  used  to 
have  of  Love  asleep,  while  Psyche  leans  over  him  with  the  lamp ; 
but  his  front  face,  with  the  full,  summery  look  of  the  eye,  was  un 
like  that.  He  was  a  Bengalese,  living  in  England  for  his  educa 
tion,  as  several  others  are  at  present.  He  spoke  English  well, 
and  conversed  on  several  subjects,  literary  and  political,  with 
grace,  fluency,  and  delicacy  of  thought. 

Passing  from  Kendal  to  Ambleside,  we  found  a  charming 
abode  furnished  us  by  the  care  of  a  friend  in  one  of  the  stone 
cottages  of  this  region,  almost  the  only  one  not  ivy-wreathed, 
but  commanding  a  beautiful  view  of  the  mountains,  and  truly 
an  English  home  in  its  neatness;  quiet,  and  delicate,  noiseless 
attention  to  the  wants  of  all  within  its  walls.  Here  we  have 
passed  eight  happy  days,  varied  by  many  drives,  boating  ex 
cursions  on  Grasmere  and  Winandermere,  and  the  society  of 
several  agreeable  persons.  As  the  Lake  district  at  this  season 
draws  together  all  kinds  of  people,  and  a  great  variety  beside 
come  from  all  quarters  to  inhabit  the  charming  dwellings  that 
adorn  its  hill-sides  and  shores,  I  met  and  saw  a  good  deal  of 
the  representatives  of  various  classes,  at  once.  I  found  here 
two  landed  proprietors  from  other  parts  of  England,  both  "  trav 
elled  English,"  one  owning  a  property  in  Greece,  where  he  fre 
quently  resides,  both  warmly  engaged  in  Reform  measures,  anti- 


130  THINGS    AND    THOUGHTS    IN    EUROPE. 

Corn-Law,  anti-Capital-Punishment.,  —  one  of  them  an  earnest 
student  of  Emerson's  Essays.  Both  of  them  had  wives,  who  kept 
pace  with  their  projects  and  their  thoughts,  active  and  intelligent 
women,  true  ladies,  skilful  in  drawing  and  music ;  all  the  better 
wives  for  the  development  of  every  power.  One  of  them  told 
me,  with  a  glow  of  pride,  that  it  was  not  long  since  her  husband 
had  been  "  cut "  by  all  his  neighbors  among  the  gentry  for  the 
part  he  took  against  the  Corn  Laws ;  but,  she  added,  he  was  now 
a  favorite  with  them  all.  Verily,  faith  will  remove  mountains,  if 
only  you  do  join  with  it  any  fair  portion  of  the  dove  and  serpent 
attributes. 

I  found  here,  too,  a  wealthy  manufacturer,  who  had  written 
many  valuable  pamphlets  on  popular  subjects.  He  said :  "  Now 
that  the  progress  of  public  opinion  was  beginning  to  make  the 
Church  and  the  Army  narrower  fields  for  the  younger  sons  of 
'noble'  families,  they  sometimes  wish  to  enter  into  trade;  but, 
beside  the  aversion  which  had  been  instilled  into  them  for  many 
centuries,  they  had  rarely  patience  and  energy  for  the  apprentice 
ship  requisite  to  give  the  needed  knowledge  of  the  world  and  habits 
of  labor."  Of  Cobden  he  said  :  "  He  is  inferior  in  acquirements 
to  very  many  of  his  class,  as  he  is  self-educated  and  had  every 
thing  to  learn  after  he  was  grown  up ;  but  in  clear  insight  there  is 
none  like  him."  A  man  of  very  little  education,  whom  I  met  a 
day  or  two  after  in  the  stage-coach,  observed  to  me :  "  Bright  is 
far  the  more  eloquent  of  the  two,  but  Cobden  is  more  felt,  just 
because  his  speeches  are  so  plain,  so  merely  matter-of-fact  and  to 
the  point." 

We  became  acquainted  also  with  Dr.  Gregory,  Professor  of 
Chemistry  at  Edinburgh,  a  very  enlightened  and  benevolent  man, 
who  in  many  ways  both  instructed  and  benefited  us.  He  is  the 
friend  of  Liebig,  and  one  of  his  chief  representatives  here. 

We  also  met  a  fine  specimen  of  the  noble,  intelligent  Scotch 
woman,  such  as  Walter  Scott  and  Burns  knew  how  to  prize. 
Seventy-six  years  have  passed  over  her  head,  only  to  prove  in 
her  the  truth  of  my  theory,  that  we  need  never  grow  old.  She 
was  "  brought  up "  in  the  animated  and  intellectual  circle  of 


WORDSWORTH.  131 

Edinburgh,  in  youth  an  apt  disciple,  in  her  prime  a  bright  orna 
ment  of  that  society.  She  had  been  an  only  child,  a  cherished 
wife,  an  adored  mother,  unspoiled  by  love  in  any  of  these  rela 
tions,  because  that  love  was  founded  on  knowledge.  In  childhood 
she  had  warmly  sympathized  in  the  spirit  that  animated  the 
American  Revolution,  and  Washington  had  been  her  hero  ;  later, 
the  interest  of  her  husband  in  every  struggle  for  freedom  had 
cherished  her  own ;  she  had  known  in  the  course  of  her  long  life 
many  eminent  men,  knew  minutely  the  history  of  -efforts  in  that 
direction,  and  sympathized  now  in  the  triumph  of  the  people  over 
the  Corn  Laws,  as  she  had  in  the  American  victories,  with  as  much 
ardor  as  when  a  girl,  though  with  a  wiser  mind.  Her  eye  was 
full  of  light,  her  manner  and  gesture  of  dignity  ;  her  voice  rich, 
sonorous,  and  finely  modulated  ;  her  tide  of  talk  marked  by  can 
dor,  justice,  and  showing  in  every  sentence  her  ripe  experience  and 
her  noble,  genial  nature.  Dear  to  memory  will  be  the  sight  of 
her  in  the  beautiful  seclusion  of  her  home  among  the  mountains, 
a  picturesque,  flower-wreathed  dwelling,  where  affection,  tran 
quillity,  and  wisdom  were  the  gods  of  the  hearth,  to  whom  was 
offered  no  vain  oblation.  Grant  us  more  such  women,  Time ! 
Grant  to  men  the  power  to  reverence,  to  seek  for  such ! 

Our  visit  to  Mr.  Wordsworth  was  very  pleasant.  He  also  is 
seventy-six,  but  his  is  a  florid,  fair  old  age.  He  walked  with  us 
to  all  his  haunts  about  the  house.  Its  situation  is  beautiful,  and 
the  "  Rydalian  Laurels "  are  magnificent.  Still  I  saw  abodes 
among  the  hills  that  I  should  have  preferred  for  Wordsworth, 
more  wild  and  still,  more  romantic ;  the  fresh  and  lovely  Rydal 
Mount  seems  merely  the  retirement  of  a  gentleman,  rather  than 
the  haunt  of  a  poet.  He  showed  his  benignity  of  disposition  in 
several  little  things,  especially  in  his  attentions  to  a  young  boy 
we  had  with  us.  This  boy  had  left  the  Circus,  exhibiting  its  feats 
of  horsemanship  in  Ambleside  "  for  that  day  only,"  at  his  own 
desire  to  see  Wordsworth,  and  I  feared  he  would  be  disappointed, 
as  I  know  I  should  have  been  at  his  age,  if,  when  called  to  see  a 
poet,  I  had  found  no  Apollo,  flaming  with  youthful  glory,  laurel- 
crowned  and  lyre  in  hand,  but,  instead,  a  reverend  old  man 


132  THINGS    AND    THOUGHTS    IN    EUROPE. 

clothed  in  black,  and  walking  with  cautious  step  along  the  level 
garden-path  ;  however,  he  was  not  disappointed,  but  seemed  in 
timid  reverence  to  recognize  the  spirit  that  had  dictated  "  Laoda- 
mia  "  and  "  Dion,"  —  and  Wordsworth,  in  his  turn,  seemed  to  feel 
and  prize  a  congenial  nature  in  this  child. 

Taking  us  into  the  house,  he  showed  us  the  picture  of  his  sis 
ter,  repeating  with  much  expression  some  lines  of  hers,  and  those 
so  famous  of  his  about  her,  beginning,  "  Five  years,"  &c. ;  also 
his  own  picture,  by  Inrnan,  of  whom  he  spoke  with  esteem. 

Mr.  Wordsworth  is  fond  of  the  hollyhock,  a  partiality  scarcely 
deserved  by  the  flower,  but  which  marks  the  simplicity  of  his 
tastes.  He  had  made  a  long  avenue  of  them  of  all  colors,  from 
the  crimson-brown  to  rose,  straw-color,  and  white,  and  pleased 
himself  with  having  made  proselytes  to  a  liking  for  them  among 
his  neighbors. 

I  never  have  seen  such  magnificent  fuchsias  as  at  Ambleside, 
and  there  was  one  to  be  seen  in  every  cottage-yard.  They  are 
no  longer  here  under  the  shelter  of  the  green-house,  as  with  us, 
and  as  they  used  to  be  in  England.  The  plant,  from  its  grace 
and  finished  elegance,  being  a  great  favorite  of  mine,  I  should 
like  to  see  it  as  frequently  and  of  as  luxuriant  a  growth  at  home, 
and  asked  their  mode  of  culture,  which  I  here  mark  down,  for  the 
benefit  of  all  who  may  be  interested.  Make  a  bed  of  bog-earth 
and  sand,  put  down  slips  of  the  fuchsia,  and  give  them  a  great 
deal  of  water,  —  this  is  all  they  need.  People  have  them  out 
here  in  winter,  but  perhaps  they  would  not  bear  the  cold  of  our 
Januaries. 

Mr.  Wordsworth  spoke  with  more  liberality  than  we  expected 
of  the  recent  measures  about  the  Corn  Laws,  saying  that  "  the 
principle  was  certainly  right,  though  as  to  whether  existing  inter 
ests  had  been  as  carefully  attended  to  as  was  just,  he  was  not 
prepared  to  say."  His  neighbors  were  pleased  to  hear  of  his 
speaking  thus  mildly,  and  hailed  it  as  a  sign  that  he  was  opening 
his  mind  to  more  light  on  these  subjects.  They  lament  that  his 
habits  of  seclusion  keep  him  much  ignorant  of  the  real  wants  of 
England  and  the  world.  Living  in  this  region,  which  is  cultivated 


MISS    MARTINEAU.  133 

by  small  proprietors,  where  there  is  little  poverty,  vice,  or  misery, 
he  hears  not  the  voice  which  cries  so  loudly  from  other  parts  of 
England,  and  will  not  be  stilled  by  sweet  poetic  suasion  or  philoso 
phy,  for  it  is  the  cry  of  men  in  the  jaws  of  destruction. 

It  was  pleasant  to  find  the  reverence  inspired  by  this  great, 
and  pure  mind  warmest  nearest  home.  Our  landlady,  in  heaping 
praises  upon  him,  added,  constantly,  "  And  Mrs.  "Wordsworth, 
too."  "  Do  the  people  here,"  said  I,  "  value  Mr.  Wordsworth 
most  because  he  is  a  celebrated  writer  ?  "  "  Truly,  madam,"  said 
she,  "  I  think  it  is  because  he  is  so  kind  a  neighbor." 
"  True  to  the  kindred  points  of  Heaven  and  Home." 

Dr.  Arnold,  too,  —  who  lived,  as  his  family  still  live,  here,  — 
diffused  the  same  ennobling  and  animating  spirit  among  those  who 
knew  him  in  private,  as  through  the  sphere  of  his  public  labors. 

Miss  Martineau  has  here  a  charming  residence ;  it  has  been 
finished  only  a  few  months,  but  all  about  it  is  in  unexpectedly  fair 
order,  and  promises  much  beauty  after  a  year  or  two  of  growth. 
Here  we  found  her  restored  to  full  health  and  activity,  looking, 
indeed,  far  better  than  she  did  when  in  the  United  States.  It 
was  pleasant  to  see  her  in  this  home,  presented  to  her  by  the  grat 
itude  of  England  for  her  course  of  energetic  and  benevolent  effort, 
and  adorned  by  tributes  of  affection  and  esteem  from  many  quarters. 
From  the  testimony  of  those  who  were  with  her  in  and  since  her 
illness,  her  recovery  would  seem  to  be  of  as  magical  quickness 
and  sure  progress  as  has  been  represented.  At  the  house  of  Miss 
Martineau  I  saw  Milman,  the  author,  I  must  not  say  poet,  —  a 
specimen  of  the  polished,  scholarly  man  of  the  world. 

We  passed  one  most  delightful  day  in  a  visit  to  Langdale,  — 
the  scene  of  "  The  Excursion,"  —  and  to  Dungeon-Ghyll  Force. 
I  am  finishing  my  letter  at  Carlisle  on  my  way  to  Scotland,  and 
will  give  a  slight  sketch  of  that  excursion,  and  one  which  occupied 
another  day,  from  Keswick  to  Buttermere  and  Crummock  Water, 
hi  my  next. 

12 


LETTER    III. 

Westmoreland.  —  Langdale.  —  Dungeon-Ghyll  Force.  —  Keswick.  —  Carlisle.  — 
Branxhohn.  —  Scott.  —  Burns. 

Edinburgh,  20th  September,  1846. 

I  HAVE  too  long  delayed  writing  up  my  journal.  —  Many  inter 
esting  observations  slip  from  recollection  if  one  waits  so  many 
days  :  yet,  while  travelling,  it  is  almost  impossible  to  find  an  hour 
when  something  of  value  to  be  seen  will  not  be  lost  while  writing. 

I  said,  in  closing  my  last,  that  I  would  write  a  little  more  about 
Westmoreland ;  but  so  much  has  happened  since,  that  I  must  now 
dismiss  that  region  with  all  possible  brevity. 

The  first  day  of  which  I  wished  to  speak  was  passed  in  visit 
ing  Langdale,  the  scene  of  Wordsworth's  "  Excursion."  Our 
party  of  eight  went  in  two  of  the  vehicles  called  cars  or  droskas, 
—  open  carriages,  each  drawn  by  one  horse.  They  are  rather 
fatiguing  to  ride  in,  but  good  to  see  from.  In  steep  and  stony 
places  all  alight,  and  the  driver  leads  the  horse  :  so  many  of 
these  there  are,  that  we  were  four  or  five  hours  in  going  ten  miles, 
including  the  pauses  when  we  wished  to  look. 

The  scenes  through  which  we  passed  are,  indeed,  of  the  most 
wild  and  noble  character.  The  wildness  is  not  savage,  but  very 
calm.  Without  recurring  to  details,  I  recognized  the  tone  and 
atmosphere  of  that  noble  poem,  which  was  to  me,  at  a  feverish 
period  in  my  life,  as  pure  waters,  free  breezes,  and  cold  blue  sky, 
bringing  a  sense  of  eternity  that  gave  an  aspect  of  composure  to 
the  rudest  volcanic  wrecks  of  time. 

We  dined  at  a  farm-house  of  the  vale,  with  its  stone  floors,  old 
carved  cabinet  (the  pride  of  a  house  of  this  sort),  and  ready  pro- 


KESWTCK.  1 0/5 

vision  of  oaten  cakes.  We  then  ascended  a  near  hill  to  the  waK  ••- 
fall  called  Dungeon- Ghyll  Force,  also  a  subject  touched  by  Words 
worth's  Muse.  You  wind  along  a  path  for  a  long  time,  hearing 
the  sound  of  the  falling  water,  but  do  not  see  it  till,  descending  by 
a  ladder  the  side  of  the  ravine,  you  come  to  its  very  foot.  You 
find  yourself  then  in  a  deep  chasm,  bridged  over  by  a  narrow 
arch  of  rock  ;  the  water  falls  at  the  farther  end  in  a  narrow 
column.  Looking  up,  you  see  the  sky  through  a  fissure  so  nar 
row  as  to  make  it  look  very  pure  and  distant.  One  of  our  party, 
passing  in,  stood  some  time  at  the  foot  of  the  waterfall,  and  added 
much  to  its  effect,  as  his  height  gave  a  measure  by  which  to  appre 
ciate  that  of  surrounding  objects,  and  his  look,  by  that  light  so 
pale  and  statuesque,  seemed  to  inform  the  place  with  the  presence 
of  its  genius. 

Our  circuit  homeward  from  this  grand  scene  led  us  through 
some  lovely  places,  and  to  an  outlook  upon  the  most  beautiful 
part  of  Westmoreland.  Passing  over  to  Keswick  we  saw  Der- 
wentwater,  and  near  it  the  Fall  of  Lodore.  It  was  from  Kes 
wick  that  we  made  the  excursion  of  a  day  through  Borrowdale  to 
Buttermere  and  Crummock  Water,  which  I  meant  to  speak  of, 
but  find  it  impossible  at  this  moment.  The  mind  does  not  now 
furnish  congenial  colors  with  which  to  represent  the  vision  of  that 
day  :  it  must  still  wait  in  the  mind  and  bide  its  time,  again  to 
emerge  to  outer  air. 

At  Keswick  we  went  to  see  a  model  of  the  Lake  country 
which  gives  an  excellent  idea  of  the  relative  positions  of  all  ob 
jects.  Its  maker  had  given  six  years  to  the  necessary  surveys 
and  drawings.  He  said  that  he  had  first  become  acquainted  with 
the  country  from  his  taste  for  fishing,  but  had  learned  to  love  its 
beauty,  till  the  thought  arose  of  making  this  model ;  that  while  en 
gaged  in  it,  he  visited  almost  every  spot  amid  the  hills,  and  com 
monly  saw  both  sunrise  and  sunset  upon  them  ;  that  he  was  hap 
py  all  the  time,  but  almost  too  happy  when  he  saw  one  section  of 
his  model  coming  out  quite  right,  and  felt  sure  at  last  that  he 
should  be  quite  successful  in  representing  to  others  the  home  of 
his  thoughts.  I  looked  upon  him  as  indeed  an  enviable  man,  to 


136  THINGS    AND    THOUGHTS    IN    EUROPE. 

have  a  profession  so  congenial  with  his  feelings,  in  which  he  had 
been  so  naturally  led  to  do  what  would  be  useful  and  pleasant  for 
others. 

Passing  from  Keswick  through  a  pleasant  and  cultivated  coun 
try,  we  paused  at  "  fair  Carlisle,"  not  voluntarily,  but  because  we 
could  not  get  the  means  of  proceeding  farther  that  day.  So,  as  it 
was  one  in  which 

"  The  sun  shone  fair  on  Carlisle  wall," 

we  visited  its  Cathedral  and  Castle,  and  trod,  for  the  first  time,  in 
some  of  the  footsteps  of  the  unfortunate  Queen  of  Scots. 

Passing  next  day  the  Border,  we  found  the  mosses  all  drained, 
and  the  very  existence  of  sometime  moss-troopers  would  have 
seemed  problematical,  but  for  the  remains  of  Gilnockie,  —  the 
tower  of  Johnnie  Armstrong,  so  pathetically  recalled  in  one  of  the 
finest  of  the  Scottish  ballads.  Its  size,  as  well  as  that  of  other 
keeps,  towers,  and  castles,  whose  ruins  are  reverentially  preserved 
in  Scotland,  gives  a  lively  sense  of  the  time  when  population  was 
so  scanty,  and  individual  manhood  grew  to  such  force.  Ten  men 
in  Gilnockie  were  stronger  then  in  proportion  to  the  whole,  and 
probably  had  in  them  more  of  intelligence,  resource,  and  genuine 
manly  power,  than  ten  regiments  now  of  red-coats  drilled  to  act 
out  manoeuvres  they  do  not  understand,  and  use  artillery  which 
needs  of  them  no  more  than  the  match  to  go  off  and  do  its  hide 
ous  message. 

Farther  on  we  saw  Branxholm,  and  the  water  in  crossing 
which  the  Goblin  Page  was  obliged  to  resume  his  proper  shape 
and  fly,  crying,  "  Lost,  lost,  lost !  "  Verily  these  things  seem 
more  like  home  than  one's  own  nursery,  whose  toys  and  furniture 
could  not  in  actual  presence  engage  the  thoughts  like  these  pic 
tures,  made  familiar  as  household  words  by  the  most  generous, 
kindly  genius  that  ever  blessed  this  earth. 

On  the  coach  with  us  was  a  gentleman  coming  from  London  to 
make  his  yearly  visit  to  the  neighborhood  of  Burns,  in  which  he 
was  born.  "  I  can  now,"  said  he,  "  go  but  once  a  year  ;  when  a 
boy,  I  never  let  a  week  pass  without  visiting  the  house  of  Burns." 


SCOTT    AND    BURNS.  lo< 

He  afterward  observed,  as  every  step  woke  us  to  fresh  recollec 
tions  of  Walter  Scott,  that  Scott,  with  all  his  vast  range  of  talent, 
knowledge,  and  activity,  was  a  poet  of  the  past  only,  and  in  his 
inmost  heart  wedded  to  the  habits  of  a  feudal  aristocracy,  while 
Burns  is  the  poet  of  the  present  and  the  future,  the  man  of  the 
people,  and  throughout  a  genuine  man.  This  is  true  enough  ; 
but  for  my  part  I  cannot  endure  a  comparison  which  by  a  breath 
of  coolness  depreciates  either.  Both  were  wanted  ;  each  acted  the 
important  part  assigned  him  by  destiny  with  a  wonderful  thorough 
ness  and  completeness.  Scott  breathed  the  breath  just  fleeting 
from  the  forms  of  ancient  Scottish  heroism  and  poesy  into  new,  — 
he  made  for  us  the  bridge  by  which  we  have  gone  into  the  old 
Ossianic  hall  and  caught  the  meaning  just  as  it  was  about  to  pass 
from  us  for  ever.  Burns  is  full  of  the  noble,  genuine  democracy 
which  seeks  not  to  destroy  royalty,  but  to  make  all  men  kings, 
as  he  himself  was,  in  nature  and  in  action.  They  belong  to  the 
same  world ;  they  are  pillars  of  the  same  church,  though  they 
uphold  its  starry  roof  from  opposite  sides.  Burns  was  much  the 
rarer  man ;  precisely  because  he  had  most  of  common  nature  on 
a  grand  scale ;  his  humor,  his  passion,  his  sweetness,  are  all  his 
own ;  they  need  no  picturesque  or  romantic  accessories  to  give 
them  due  relief:  looked  at  by  all  lights  they  are  the  same.  Since 
Adam,  there  has  been  none  that  approached  nearer  fitness  to 
stand  up  before  God  and  angels  in  the  naked  majesty  of  manhood 
than  Robert  Burns  ;  —  but  there  was  a  serpent  in  his  field  also  ! 
Yet  but  for  his  fault  we  could  never  have  seen  brought  out  the 
brave  and  patriotic  modesty  with  which  he  owned  it.  Shame  on 
him  who  could  bear  to  think  of  fault  in  this  rich  jewel,  unless  re 
minded  by  such  confession. 

We  passed  Abbotsford  without  stopping,  intending  to  go  there 
on  our  return.  Last  year  five  hundred  Americans  inscribed  their 
names  in  its  porter's  book.  A  raw-boned  Scotsman,  who  gathered 
his  weary  length  into  our  coach  on  his  return  from  a  pilgrimage 
thither,  did  us  the  favor  to  inform  us  that  "  Sir  Walter  was  a 
vara  intelligent  mon,"  and  the  guide-book  mentions  "  the  Ameri- 
12* 


138  THINGS   AND    THOUGHTS    IN   EUROPE. 

can   Washington"  as  "a  worthy  old   patriot."     Lord   safe   us, 
cummers,  what  news  be  there ! 

This  letter,  meant  to  go  by  the  Great  Britain,  many  interrup 
tions  force  me  to  close,  unflavored  by  one  whiff  from  the  smoke 
of  Auld  Reekie.  More  and  better  matter  shall  my  next  contain, 
for  here  and  in  the  Highlands  I  have  passed  three  not  unproduc 
tive  weeks,  of  which  more  anon. 


LETTER    IV. 

Edinburgh,  Old  and  New.  —  Scott  and  Burns.  —  Dr.  Andrew  Combe.  —  Ameri 
can  Re-publishing.  —  The  Bookselling  Trade.  —  The  Messrs.  Chambers.  —  De 
Quincey  the  Opium-Eater.  —  Dr.  Chalmers. 

Edinburgh,  September  22d,  1846. 

THE  beautiful  and  stately  aspect  of  this  city  has  been  the 
theme  of  admiration  so  general  that  I  can  only  echo  it.  We 
have  seen  it  to  the  greatest  advantage  both  from  Calton  Hill 
and  Arthur's  Seat,  and  our  lodgings  in  Princess  Street  allow  us  a 
fine  view  of  the  Castle,  always  impressive,  but  peculiarly  so  in 
the  moonlit  evenings  of  our  first  week  here,  when  a  veil  of  mist 
added  to  its  apparent  size,  and  at  the  same  time  gave  it  the  air 
with  which  Martin,  in  his  illustrations  of  "  Paradise  Lost,"  has 
invested  the  palace  which  "  rose  like  an  exhalation." 

On  this  our  second  visit,  after  an  absence  of  near  a  fortnight  in 
the  Highlands,  we  are  at  a  hotel  nearly  facing  the  new  monu 
ment  to  Scott,  and  the  tallest  buildings  of  the  Old  Town.  From 
my  windows  I  see  the  famous  Kirk,  the  spot  where  the  old  Tol- 
booth  was,  and  can  almost  distinguish  that  where  Porteous  was 
done  to  death,  and  other  objects  described  in  the  most  dramatic 
part  of  "The  Heart  of  Mid-Lothian."  In  one  of  these  tall 
houses  Hume  wrote  part  of  his  History  of  England,  and  on 
this  spot  still  nearer  was  the  home  of  Allan  Ramsay.  A  thousand 
other  interesting  and  pregnant  associations  present  themselves 
every  time  I  look  out  of  the  window. 

In  the  open  square  between  us  and  the  Old  Town  is  to  be  the 
terminus  of  the  railroad,  but  as  the  building  will  be  masked  with 
trees,  it  is  thought  it  will  not  mar  the  beauty  of  the  place ;  yet 


140  THINGS    AND    THOUGHTS    IN    EUROPE. 

Scott  could  hardly  have  looked  without  regret  upon  an  object 
that  marks  so  distinctly  the  conquest  of  the  New  over  the  Old, 
and,  appropriately  enough,  his  statue  has  its  back  turned  that 
way.  The  effect  of  the  monument  to  Scott  is  pleasing,  though 
without  strict  unity  of  thought  or  original  beauty  of  design. 
The  statue  is  too  much  hid  within  the  monument,  and  wants  that 
majesty  of  repose  in  the  attitude  and  drapery  which  a  sitting 
figure  should  have,  and  which  might  well  accompany  the  mas 
sive  head  of  Scott.  Still  the  monument  is  an  ornament  and  an 
honor  to  the  city.  This  is  now  the  fourth  that  has  been  erected 
within  two  years  to  commemorate  the  triumphs  of  genius.  Monu 
ments  that  have  risen  from  the  same  idea,  and  in  such  quick  suc 
cession,  to  Schiller,  to  Goethe,  to  Beethoven,  and  to  Scott,  sig 
nalize  the  character  of  the  new  era  still  more  happily  than  does 
the  railroad  coming  up  almost  to  the  foot  of  Edinburgh  Castle. 

The  statue  of  Burns  has  been  removed  from  the  monument 
erected  in  his  honor,  to  one  of  the  public  libraries,  as  being  there 
more  accessible  to  the  public.  It  is,  however,  entirely  unworthy 
its  subject,  giving  the  idea  of  a  smaller  and  younger  person, 
while  we  think  of  Burns  as  of  a  man  in  the  prime  of  manhood, 
one  who  not  only  promised,  but  was,  and  with  a  sunny  glow  and 
breadth  of  character  of  which  this  stone  effigy  presents  no  sign. 

A  Scottish  gentleman  told  me  the  following  story,  which  would 
afford  the  finest  subject  for  a  painter  capable  of  representing  the 
glowing  eye  and  natural  kingliness  of  Burns,  in  contrast  to  the 
poor,  mean  puppets  he  reproved. 

Burns,  still  only  in  the  dawn  of  his  celebrity,  was  invited  to 
dine  with  one  of  the  neighboring  so-called  gentry  (unhappily 
quite  void  of  true  gentle  blood).  On  arriving  he  found  his  plate 
set  in  the  servants'  room ! !  After  dinner  he  was  invited  into  a 
room  where  guests  were  assembled,  and,  a  chair  being  placed  for 
him  at  the  lower  end  of  the  board,  a  glass  of  wine  was  offered, 
and  he  was  requested  to  sing  one  of  his  songs  for  the  entertain 
ment  of  the  company.  He  drank  off  the  wine,  and  thundered  forth 
in  reply  his  grand  song,  "  For  a'  that  and  a'  that,"  with  which  it 
will  do  no  harm  to  refresh  the  memories  of  our  readers,  for  we 


BURNS.  141 

doubt  there  may  be,  even  in  Republican  America,  those  who  need 
the  reproof  as  much,  and  with  far  less  excuse,  than  had  that 
Scottish  company. 

"  Is  there,  for  honest  poverty, 

That  hangs  his  head,  and  a'  that  ? 
The  coward  slave,  we  pass  him  by, 
We  dare  be  poor  for  a'  that ! 
For  a'  that,  and  a'  that, 
Our  toils  obscure,  and  a'  that, 
The  rank  is  but  the  guinea's  stamp, 
The  man  's  the  gowd  for  a'  that. 

"  What  tho'  on  hamely  fare  we  dine, 
Wear  hoddin  gray,  and  a'  that ; 
Gie  fools  their  silks,  and  knaves  their  wine, 
A  man  's  a  man  for  a'  that ! 
For  a'  that,  and  a'  that, 
Their  tinsel  show,  and  a'  that, 
The  honest  man,  though  e'er  sae  poor, 
Is  king  o'  men  for  a'  that. 

"  Ye  see  yon  birkie,  ca'd  a  lord, 

Wha  struts,  and  stares,  and  a'  that; 
Tho'  hundreds  worship  at  his  word, 

He  's  but  a  coof  for  a'  that ; 

For  a'  that,  and  a'  that, 

His  ribbon,  star,  and  a'  that, 
The  man  of  independent  mind, 

He  looks  and  laughs  at  a'  that. 

"  A  prince  can  make  a  belted  knight, 

A  marquis,  duke,  and  a'  that; 
But  an  honest  man  's  aboon  his  might 

Guid  faith,  he  maunna  fa'  that! 

For  a'  that,  and  a'  that, 

Their  dignities,  and  a'  that, 
The  pith  o'  sense  and  pride  o'  worth 

Are  higher  ranks  than  a'  that. 

"  Then  let  us  pray  that  come  it  may, 

As  come  it  will  for  a'  that, 
That  sense  and  worth,  o'er  a'  the  earth, 

May  bear  the  gree,  and  a'  that ; 

For  a'  that,  and  a'  that, 

It 's  coming  yet  for  a'  that, 
That  man  to  man,  the  wide  warld  o'er, 

Shall  brothers  be  for  a'  that." 


142  THINGS    AND    THOUGHTS    IN    EUROPE. 

I  And,  having  finished  this  prophecy  and  prayer,  Nature's  noble 
man  left  his  churlish  entertainers  to  hide  their  diminished  heads 
in  the  home  they  had  disgraced. 

We  have  seen  all  the  stock  lions.  The  Regalia  people  still 
crowd  to  see,  though  the  old  natural  feelings  from  which  they  so 
long  lay  hidden  seem  almost  extinct.  Scotland  grows  English 
day  by  day.  The  libraries  of  the  Advocates,  Writers  to  the 
Signet,  &c.,  are  fine  establishments.  The  University  and  schools 
are  now  in  vacation ;  we  are  compelled  by  unwise  postponement 
of  our  journey  to  see  both  Edinburgh  and  London  at  the  worst 
possible  season.  We  should  have  been  here  in  April,  there  in 
June.  There  is  always  enough  to  see,  but  now  we  find  a  ma 
jority  of  the  most  interesting  persons  absent,  and  a  stagnation  in 
the  intellectual  movements  of  the  place. 

We  had,  however,  the  good  fortune  to  find  Dr.  Andrew 
Combe,  who,  though  a  great  invalid,  was  able  and  disposed  for 
conversation  at  this  time.  I  was  impressed  with  great  and 
affectionate  respect  by  the  benign  and  even  temper  of  his  mind, 
his  extensive  and  accurate  knowledge,  accompanied,  as  such 
should  naturally  be,  by  a  large  and  intelligent  liberality.  Of 
our  country  he  spoke  very  wisely  and  hopefully,  though  among 
other  stories  with  which  we,  as  Americans,  are  put  to  the  blush 
here,  there  is  none  worse  than  that  of  the  conduct  of  some  of  our 
publishers  toward  him.  One  of  these  stories  I  had  heard  in  New 
York,  but  supposed  it  to  be  exaggerated  till  I  had  it  from  the 
best  authority.  It  is  of  one  of  our  leading  houses  who  were  pub 
lishing  on  their  own  account  and  had  stereotyped  one  of  his  works 
from  an  early  edition.  When  this  work  had  passed  through 
other  editions  and  he  had  for  years  been  busy  in  reforming 
and  amending  it,  he  applied  to  this  house  to  republish  from  the 
later  and  better  edition.  They  refused.  In  vain  he  urged  that 
it  was  not  only  for  his  own  reputation  as  an  author  that  he  was 
anxious,  but  for  the  good  of  the  great  country  through  which 
writings  on  such  important  subjects  were  to  be  circulated,  that 
they  might  have  the  benefit  of  his  labors  and  best  knowledge. 
Such  arguments  on  the  stupid  and  mercenary  tempers  of  those 


THE    BOOKSELLING    TRADE.  143 

addressed  fell  harmless  as  on  a  buffalo's  hide  might  a  gold-tipped 
arrow.  The  book,  they  thought,  answered  THEIR  purpose  suffi 
ciently,  for  IT  SELLS.  Other  purpose  for  a  book  they  knew  none. 
And  as  to  the  natural  rights  of  an  author  over  the  fruits  of  his 
mind,  the  distilled  essence  of  a  life  consumed  in  the  severities 
of  mental  labor,  they  had  never  heard  of  such  a  thing.  His  work 
was  in  the  market,  and  he  had  no  more  to  do  with  it,  that  they 
could  see,  than  the  silkworm  with  the  lining  of  one  of  their  coats. 

Mr.  Greeley,  the  more  I  look  at  this  subject,  the  more  I  must 
maintain,  in  opposition  to  your  views,  that  the  publisher  cannot,  if 
a  mere  tradesman,  be  a  man  of  honor.  It  is  impossible  in  the 
nature  of  things.  He  must  have  some  idea  of  the  nature  and 
value  of  literary  labor,  or  he  is  wholly  unfit  to  deal  with  its 
products.  He  cannot  get  along  by  occasional  recourse  to  paid 
critics  or  readers ;  he  must  himself  have  some  idea  what  he  is 
about.  One  partner,  at  least,  in  the  firm,  must  be  a  man  of  cul 
ture.  All  must  understand  enough  to  appreciate  their  position, 
and  know  that  he  who,  for  his  sordid  aims,  circulates  poisonous 
trash  amid  a  great  and  growing  people,  and  makes  it  almost 
impossible  for  those  whom  Heaven  has  appointed  as  its  in 
structors  to  do  their  office,  are  the  worst  of  traitors,  and  to  be 
condemned  at  the  bar  of  nations  under  a  sentence  no  less  severe 
than  false  statesmen  and  false  priests.  This  matter  should  and 
must  be  looked  to  more  conscientiously. 

Dr.  Combe,  repelled  by  all  this  indifference  to  conscience  and 
natural  equity  in  the  firm  who  had  taken  possession  of  his  work, 
applied  to  others.  But  here  he  found  himself  at  once  opposed  by 
the  invisible  barrier  that  makes  this  sort  of  tyranny  so  strong  and 
so  pernicious.  "It  was  the  understanding  among  the  trade  that 
they  were  not  to  interfere  with  one  another;  indeed,  they  could 
have  no  chance,"  &c.,  &c.  When  at  last  he  did  get  the  work 
republished  in  another  part  of  the  country  less  favorable  for  his 
purposes,  the  bargain  made  as  to  the  pecuniary  part  of  the  trans 
action  was  in  various  ways  so  evaded,  that,  up  to  this  time,  he  has 
received  no  compensation  from  that  widely-circulated  work,  ex 
cept  a  lock  of  Spurzheim's  hair! ! 


144  THINGS    AND    THOUGHTS    IN    EUROPE. 

I  was  pleased  to  hear  the  true  view  expressed  by  one  of  the 
Messrs.  Chambers.  These  brothers  have  worked  their  way  up 
to  wealth  and  influence  by  daily  labor  and  many  steps.  One  of 
them  is  more  the  business  man,  the  other  the  literary  curator  of 
their  Journal.  Of  this  Journal  they  issue  regularly  eighty  thou 
sand  copies,  and  it  is  doing  an  excellent  work,  by  awakening 
among  the  people  a  desire  for  knowledge,  and,  to  a  considerable 
extent,  furnishing  them  with  good  materials.  I  went  over  their 
fine  establishment,  where  I  found  more  than  a  hundred  and  fifty 
persons,  in  good  part  women,  employed,  all  in  well-aired,  well- 
lighted  rooms,  seemingly  healthy  and  content.  Connected  with 
the  establishment  is  a  Savings  Bank,  arid  evening  instruction  in 
writing,  singing,  and  arithmetic.  There  was  also  a  reading-room 
and  the  same  valuable  and  liberal  provision  we  had  found 
attached  to  some  of  the  Manchester  warehouses.  Such  acces 
sories  dignify  and  gladden  all  kinds  of  labor,  and  show  somewhat 
of  the  true  spirit  of  human  brotherhood  in  the  employer.  Mr. 
Chambers  said  he  trusted  they  should  never  look  on  publishing 
chiefly  as  business,  or  a  lucrative  and  respectable  employment, 
but  as  the  means  of  mental  and  moral  benefit  to  their  countrymen. 
To  one  so  wearied  and  disgusted  as  I  have  been  by  vulgar  and 
base  avowals  on  such  subjects,  it  was  very  refreshing  to  hear  this 
from  the  lips  of  a  successful  publisher. 

Dr.  Combe  spoke  with  high  praise  of  Mr.  Hurlburt's  book, 
"  Human  Rights  and  their  Political  Guaranties,"  which  was 
published  at  the  Tribune  office.  He  observed  that  it  was  the 
work  of  a  real  thinker,  and  extremely  well  written.  It  is  to  be 
republished  here.  Dr.  Combe  said  that  it  must  make  its  way 
slowly,  as  it  could  interest  those  only  who  were  willing  to  read 
thoughtfully  ;  but  its  success  was  sure  at  last. 

He  also  spoke  with  great  interest  and  respect  of  Mrs.  Farnham, 
of  whose  character  and  the  influence  she  has  exerted  on  the 
female  prisoners  at  Sing  Sing  he  had  heard  some  account. 

A  person  of  a  quite  different  character  and  celebrity  is  De 
Quincey,  the  English  Opium-Eater,  and  who  lately  has  delighted 
us  again  with  the  papers  in  Blackwood  headed  "  Suspiria  de 


CHALMERS. 

Profundis."  I  had  the  satisfaction,  not  easily  attainable  now, 
of  seeing  him  for  some  hours,  and  in  the  mood  of  conversation. 
As  one  belonging  to  the  Wordsworth  and  Coleridge  constellation, 
(he  too  is  now  seventy-six  years  of  age,)  the  thoughts  and  knowl 
edge  of  Mr.  De  Quincey  lie  in  the  past;  and  oftentimes  he  ;  poke 
of  matters  now  become  trite  to  one  of  a  later  culture.  But  to 
all  that  fell  from  his  lips,  his  eloquence,  subtile  and  forcible  as  the 
wind,  full  and  gently  falling  as  the  evening  dew,  lent  a  peculiar 
charm.  He  is  an  admirable  narrator,  not  rapid,  but  gliding 
along  like  a  rivulet  through  a  green  meadow,  giving  and  taking 
a  thousand  little  beauties  not  absolutely  required  to  give  his  story 
due  relief,  but  each,  in  itself,  a  separate  boon. 

I  admired,  too,  his  urbanity,  so  opposite  to  the  rapid,  slang, 
Vivian- Greyish  style  current  in  the  literary  conversation  of  the 
day.  "  Sixty  years  since,"  men  had  time  to  do  things  better  and 
more  gracefully  than  now. 

With  Dr.  Chalmers  we  passed  a  couple  of  hours.  He  is  old 
now,  but  still  full  of  vigor  and  fire.  We  had  an  opportunity  of 
hearing  a  fine  burst  of  indignant  eloquence  from  him.  "  I  shall 
blush  to  my  very  bones,"  said  he,  "if  the  Chaarrch"  —  (.sound 
these  two  rr's  with  as  much  burr  as  possible  and  you  will  get  at 
an  idea  of  his  mode  of  pronouncing  that  unweariable  word)  —  "  if 
the  Chaarrch  yields  to  the  storm."  He  alluded  to  the  outcry  now 
raised  against  the  Free  Church  by  the  Abolitionists,  whose  motto 
is,  "  Send  back  the  money,"  i.  e.  money  taken  from  the  American 
slaveholders.  Dr.  Chalmers  felt  that,  if  they  did  not  yield  from 
conviction,  they  must  not  to  assault.  His  manner  of  speaking  on 
this  subject  gave  me  an  idea  of  the  nature  of  his  eloquence. 
He  seldom  preaches  now. 

A  fine  picture  was  presented  by  the  opposition  of  figure  and 
lineaments  between  a  young  Indian,  son  of  the  celebrated  Dwar- 
kanauth  Tagore,  who  happened  to  be  there  that  morning,  and 
Dr.  Chalmers,  as  they  were  conversing  together.  The  swarthy, 
half-timid,  yet  elegant  face  and  form  of  the  Indian  made  a  fine 
contrast  with  the  florid,  portly,  yet  intellectually  luminous  appear- 
13 


14,6  THINGS    AND    THOUGHTS    IN    EUROPE. 

ance  of  the  Doctor ;  half  shepherd,  half  orator,  he  looked  a  Shep 
herd  King  opposed  to  some  Arabian  story-teller. 

I  saw  others  in  Edinburgh  of  a  later  date  who  haply  gave 
more  valuable  as  well  as  fresher  revelations  of  the  spirit,  and 
whose  names  may  be  by  and  by  more  celebrated  than  those  I 
have  cited ;  but  for  the  present  this  must  suffice.  It  would  take 
a  week,  if  I  wrote  half  I  saw  or  thought  in  Edinburgh,  and  I 
must  close  for  to-day. 


LETTER    V. 

Perth.  —  Travelling  by  Coach.  —  Loch  Leven.  —  Queen  Mary.  —  Loch  Katrine. 
—  The  Trosachs.  —  Rowardennan.  —  A  Night  on  Ben  Lomond.  —  Scotch 
Peasantry. 

Birmingham,  September  30th,  1846. 

I  WAS  obliged  to  stop  writing  at  Edinburgh  before  the  better 
half  of  my  tale  was  told,  and  must  now  begin  there  again,  to  speak 
of  an  excursion  into  the  Highlands,  which  occupied  about  a  fort 
night. 

We  left  Edinburgh  by  coach  for  Perth,  and  arrived  there  about 
three  in  the  afternoon.  I  have  reason  to  be  very  glad  that  I  visit 
this  island  before  the  reign  of  the  stage-coach  is  quite  over.  I 
have  been  constantly  on  the  top  of  the  coach,  even  one  day  of 
drenching  rain,  and  enjoy  it  highly.  Nothing  can  be  more  in 
spiring  than  this  swift,  steady  progress  over  such  smooth  roads, 
and  placed  so  high  as  to  overlook  the  country  freely,  with  the 
lively  flourish  of  the  horn  preluding  every  pause.  Travelling  by 
railroad  is,  in  my  opinion,  the  most  stupid  process  on  earth  ;  it  is 
sleep  without  the  refreshment  of  sleep,  for  the  noise  of  the  tram 
makes  it  impossible  either  to  read,  talk,  or  sleep  to  advantage. 
But  here  the  advantages  are  immense ;  you  can  fly  through  this 
dull  trance  from  one  beautiful  place  to  another,  and  stay  at  each 
during  the  time  that  would  otherwise  be  spent  on  the  road.  Al 
ready  the  artists,  who  are  obliged  to  find  their  home  in  London, 
rejoice  that  all  England  is  thrown  open  to  them  for  sketching- 
ground,  since  they  can  now  avail  themselves  of  a  day's  leisure 
at  a  great  distance,  and  with  choice  of  position,  whereas  formerly 
they  were  obliged  to  confine  themselves  to  a  few  "  green  and  bow 
ery"  spots  in  the  neighborhood  of  the  metropolis.  But  while  in 


148  THINGS   AND    THOUGHTS    IN    EUROPE. 

the  car,  it  is  to  me  that  worst  of  purgatories,  the  purgatory  of 
dulness. 

Well,  on  the  coach  we  went  to  Perth,  and  passed  through  Kin 
ross,  and  saw  Loch  Leven,  and  the  island  where  Queen  Mary 
passed  those  sorrowful  months,  before  her  romantic  escape  under 
care  of  the  Douglas.  As  this  unhappy,  lovely  woman  stands  for 
a  type  in  history,  death,  time,  and  distance  do  not  destroy  her  at 
tractive  power.  Like  Cleopatra,  she  has  still  her  adorers ;  nay, 
some  are  born  to  her  in  each  new  generation  of  men.  Lately 
she  has  for  her  chevalier  the  Russian  Prince  Labanoff,  who  has 
spent  fourteen  years  in  studying  upon  all  that  related  to  her,  and 
thinks  now  that  he  can  make  out  a  story  and  a  picture  about  the 
mysteries  of  her  short  reign,  which  shall  satisfy  the  desire  of  her 
lovers  to  find  her  as  pure  and  just  as  she  was  charming.  I  have 
only  seen  of  his  array  of  evidence  so  much  as  may  be  found  in 
the  pages  of  Chambers's  Journal,  but  that  much  does  not  disturb 
the  original  view  I  have  taken  of  the  case ;  which  is,  that  from  a 
princess  educated  under  the  Medici  and  Guise  influence,  engaged 
in  the  meshes  of  secret  intrigue  to  favor  the  Roman  Catholic  faith, 
her  tacit  acquiescence,  at  least,  in  the  murder  of  Darnley,  after 
all  his  injurious  conduct  toward  her,  was  just  what  was  to  be  ex 
pected.  From  a  poor,  beautiful  young  woman,  longing  to  enjoy 
life,  exposed  both  by  her  position  and  her  natural  fascinations  to 
the  utmost  bewilderment  of  flattery,  whether  prompted  by  interest 
or  passion,  her  other  acts  of  folly  are  most  natural,  and  let  all 
who  feel  inclined  harshly  to  condemn  her  remember  to 

"  Gently  scan  your  brother  man, 
Still  gentler  sister  woman." 

Surely,  in  all  the  stern  pages  of  life's  account-book  there  is  none 
on  which  a  more  terrible  price  is  exacted  for  every  precious 
endowment.  Her  rank  and  reign  only  made  her  powerless  to  do 
good,  and  exposed  her  to  danger ;  her  talents  only  served  to  irri 
tate  her  foes  and  disappoint  her  friends.  This  most  charming  of 
women  was  the  destruction  of  her  lovers  :  married  three  times, 
she  had  never  any  happiness  as  a  wife,  but  in  both  the  connec- 


PERTH.  149 

tions  of  her  choice  found  that  she  had  either  never  possessed  or 
could  not  retain,  even  for  a  few  weeks,  the  love  of  the  men  she 
had  chosen,  so  that  Darnley  was  willing  to  risk  her  life  and 
that  of  his  unborn  child  to  wreak  his  wrath  upon  Rizzio,  and 
after  a  few  weeks  with  Bothwell  she  was  heard  "  calling  aloud 
for  a  knife  to  kill  herself  with."  A  mother  twice,  and  of  a  son 
and  daughter,  both  the  children  were  brought  forth  in  loneliness 
and  sorrow,  and  separated  from  her  early,  her  son  educated  to 
hate  her,  her  daughter  at  once  immured  in  a  convent.  Add  the 
eighteen  years  of  her  imprisonment,  and  the  fact  that  this  foolish, 
prodigal  world,  when  there  was  in  it  one  woman  fitted  by  her  grace 
and  loveliness  to  charm  all  eyes  and  enliven  all  fancies,  suffered 
her  to  be  shut  up  to  water  with  her  tears  her  dull  embroidery  dur 
ing  all  the  full  rose-blossom  of  her  life,  and  you  will  hardly  get 
beyond  this  story  for  a  tragedy,  not  noble,  but  pallid  and  forlorn. 

Such  were  the  bootless,  best  thoughts  I  had  while  looking  at 
the  dull  blood-stain  and  block  ed-up  secret  stair  of  Holy  rood, 
at  the  ruins  of  Loch  Leven  castle,  and  afterward  at  Abbotsford, 
where  the  picture  of  Queen  Mary's  head,  as  it  lay  on  the  pillow 
when  severed  from  the  block,  hung  opposite  to  a  fine  caricature 
of  "  Queen  Elizabeth  dancing  high  and  disposedly."  In  this  last 
the  face  is  like  a  mask,  so  frightful  is  the  expression  of  cold 
craft,  irritated  vanity,  and  the  malice  of  a  lonely  breast  in  contrast 
with  the  attitude  and  elaborate  frippery  of  the  dress.  The  am 
bassador  looks  on  dismayed  ;  the  little  page  can  scarcely  control 
the  laughter  which  swells  his  boyish  cheeks.  Such  can  win  the 
world  which  better  hearts  (and  such  Mary's  was,  even  if  it  had  a 
large  black  speck  in  it)  are  most  like  to  lose. 

That  was  a  most  lovely  day  on  which  we  entered  Perth,  and 
saw  in  full  sunshine  its  beautiful  meadows,  among  them  the  North- 
Inch,  the  famous  battle-ground  commemorated  in  "  The  Fair 
Maid  of  Perth,"  adorned  with  graceful  trees  like  those  of  the 
New  England  country  towns.  In  the  afternoon  we  visited  the 
modern  Kinfauns,  the  stately  home  of  Lord  Grey.  The  drive  to 
it  is  most  beautiful,  on  the  one  side  the  Park,  with  noble  heights 
that  skirt  it,  on  the  other  through  a  belt  of  trees  was  seen  the 
13* 


150  THINGS    AND    THOUGHTS    IN    EUROPE. 

river  and  the  sweep  of  that  fair  and  cultivated  country.  The 
house  is  a  fine  one,  and  furnished  with  taste,  the  library  large, 
and  some  good  works  in  marble.  Among  the  family  pictures 
one  arrested  my  attention,  —  the  face  of  a  girl  full  of  the  most  ^ 
pathetic  sensibility,  and  with  no  restraint  of  convention  upon 
its  ardent,  gentle  expression.  She  died  young. 

Returning,  we  were  saddened,  as  almost  always  on  leaving  any 
such  place,  by  seeing  such  swarms  of  dirty  women  and  dirtier 
children  at  the  doors  of  the  cottages  almost  close  by  the  gate  of 
the  avenue.  To  the  horrors  and  sorrows  of  the  streets  in  such 
places  as  Liverpool,  Glasgow,  and,  above  all,  London,  one  has  to 
grow  insensible  or  die  daily ;  but  here  in  the  sweet,  fresh,  green 
country,  where  there  seems  to  be  room  for  everybody,  it  is  im 
possible  to  forget  the  frightful  inequalities  between  the  lot  of  man 
and  man,  or  believe  that  God  can  smile  upon  a  state  of  things 
such  as  we  find  existent  here.  Can  any  man  who  has  seen  these 
things  dare  blame  the  Associations ts  for  their  attempt  to  find 
prevention  against  such  misery  and  wickedness  in  our  land  ? 
Rather  will  not  every  man  of  tolerable  intelligence  and  good  feel 
ing  commend,  say  rather  revere,  every  earnest  attempt  in  that 
direction,  nor  dare  interfere  with  any,  unless  he  has  a  better  to 
offer  in  its  place  ? 

Next  morning  we  passed  on  to  Crieff,  in  whose  neighborhood 
we  visited  Drummond  Castle,  the  abode,  or  rather  one  of  the 
abodes,  of  Lord  Willoughby  D'Eresby.  It  has  a  noble  park, 
through  which  you  pass  by  an  avenue  of  two  miles  long.  The 
old  keep  is  still  ascended  to  get  the  fine  view  of  the  surrounding 
country ;  and  during  Queen  Victoria's  visit,  her  Guards  were 
quartered  there.  But  what  took  my  fancy  most  was  the  old- 
fashioned  garden,  full  of  old  shrubs  and  new  flowers,  with  its 
formal  parterres  in  the  shape  of  the  family  arms,  and  its  clipped 
yew  and  box  trees.  It  was  fresh  from  a  shower,  and  now  glitter 
ing  and  fragrant  in  bright  sunshine. 

This  afternoon  we  pursued  our  way,  passing  through  the  plan 
tations  of  Ochtertyre,  a  far  more  charming  place  to  my  taste  than 
Drummond  Castle,  freer  and  more  various  in  its  features.  Five 


LOCH    KATRINE.  151 

or  six  of  these  fine  places  lie  in  the  neighborhood  of  CriefF,  and 
the  traveller  may  give  two  or  three  days  to  visiting  them  with  a 
rich  reward  of  delight.  But  we  were  pressing  on  to  be  with  the 
lakes  and  mountains  rather,  and  that  night  brought  us  to  St.  Fil- 
lan's,  where  we  saw  the  moon  shining  on  Loch  Earn. 

All  this  region,  and  that  of  Loch  Katrine  and  the  Trosachs, 
which  we  reached  next  day,  Scott  has  described  exactly  in  "  The 
Lady  of  the  Lake " ;  nor  is  it  possible  to  appreciate  that  poem 
without  going  thither,  neither  to  describe  the  scene  better  than  he 
has  done  after  you  have  seen  it.  I  was  somewhat  disappointed  in 
the  pass  of  the  Trosachs  itself;  it  is  very  grand,  but  the  grand 
part  lasts  so  little  while.  The  opening  view  of  Loch  Katrine, 
however,  surpassed  expectation.  It  was  late  in  the  afternoon 
when  we  launched  our  little  boat  there  for  Ellen's  isle. 

The  boatmen  recite,  though  not  con  molto  espressione,  the  parts 
of  the  poem  which  describe  these  localities.  Observing  that  they 
spoke  of  the  personages,  too,  with  the  same  air  of  confidence,  we 
asked  if  they  were  sure  that  all  this  really  happened.  They  re 
plied,  "  Certainly  ;  it  had  been  told  from  father  to  son  through  so 
many  generations."  Such  is  the  power  of  genius  to  interpolate 
what  it  will  into  the  regular  log-book  of  Time's  voyage. 

Leaving  Loch  Katrine  the  following  day,  we  entered  Rob  Roy's 
country,  and  saw  on  the  way  the  house  where  Helen  MacGregor 
was  born,  and  Rob  Roy's  sword,  which  is  shown  in  a  house  by  the 
way-side. 

We  came  in  a  row-boat  up  Loch  Katrine,  though  both  on  that 
and  Loch  Lomond  you  may  go  in  a  hateful  little  steamer  with 
a  squeaking  fiddle  to  play  Rob  Roy  MacGregor  O.  I  walked 
almost  all  the  way  through  the  pass  from  Loch  Katrine  to  Loch 
Lomond  ;  it  was  a  distance  of  six  miles  ;  but  you  feel  as  if  you 
could  walk  sixty  in  that  pure,  exhilarating  air.  At  Inversnaid 
we  took  boat  again  to  go  down  Loch  Lomond  to  the  little  inn 
of  Rowardennan,  from  which  the  ascent  is  made  of  Ben  Lomond, 
the  greatest  elevation  in  these  parts.  The  boatmen  are  fine, 
athletic  men  ;  one  of  those  with  us  this  evening,  a  handsome 
young  man  of  two  or  three  and  twenty,  sang  to  us  some  Gaelic 


152  THINGS    AND    THOUGHTS    IN    EUROPE. 

songs.  The  first,  a  very  wild  and  plaintive  air,  was  the  expostu 
lation  of  a  girl  whose  lover  has  deserted  her  and  married  another. 
It  seems  he  is  ashamed,  and  will  not  even  look  at  her  when  they 
meet  upon  the  road.  She  implores  him,  if  he  has  not  forgotten 
all  that  scene  of  bygone  love,  at  least  to  lift  up  his  eyes  and  give 
her  one  friendly  glance.  The  sad  crooning  burden  of  the  stanzas 
in  which  she  repeats  this  request  was  very  touching.  When  the 
boatman  had  finished,  he  hung  his  head  and  seemed  ashamed  of 
feeling  the  song  too  much  ;  then,  when  we  asked  for  another,  he 
said  he  would  sing  another  about  a  girl  that  was  happy.  This 
one  was  in  three  parts.  First,  a  tuneful  address  from  a  maiden 
to  her  absent  lover ;  second,  his  reply,  assuring  her  of  his  fidelity 
and  tenderness ;  third,  a  strain  which  expresses  their  joy  when 
reunited.  I  thought  this  boatman  had  sympathies  which  would 
prevent  his  tormenting  any  poor  women,  and  perhaps  make  some 
one  happy,  and  this  was  a  pleasant  thought,  since  probably  in  the 
Highlands,  as  elsewhere, 

.  "  Maidens  lend  an  ear  too  oft 

To  the  careless  wooer; 
Maidens'  hearts  are  always  soft; 
Would  that  men's  were  truer !  " 

I  don't  know  that  I  quote  the  words  correctly,  but  that  is  the  sum 
and  substance  of  a  masculine  report  on  these  matters. 

The  first  day  at  Rowardennan  not  being  propitious  for  ascending 
the  mountain,  we  went  down  the  lake  to  sup,  and  got  very  tired 
in  various  ways,  so  that  we  rose  very  late  next  morning.  Then 
we  found  a  day  of  ten  thousand  for  our  purpose ;  but  unhappily  a 
large  party  had  come  with  the  sun  and  engaged  all  the  horses,  so 
that,  if  we  went,  it  must  be  on  foot.  This  was  something  of  an 
enterprise  for  me,  as  the  ascent  is  four  miles,  and  toward  the  sum 
mit  quite  fatiguing ;  however,  in  the  pride  of  newly  gained  health 
and  strength,  I  was  ready,  and  set  forth  with  Mr.  S.  alone.  We 
took  no  guide,  —  and  the  people  of  the  house  did  not  advise  it,  as 
they  ought.  They  told  us  afterward  they  thought  the  day  was 
so  clear  that  there  was  no  probability  of  danger,  and  they  were 
afraid  of  seeming  mercenary  about  it.  It  was,  however,  wrong, 


BEN    LOMOND.  153 

as  they  knew  what  we  did  not,  that  e.ven  the  shepherds,  if  a  mist 
comes  on,  can  be  lost  in  these  hills ;  that  a  party  of  gentlemen 
were  so  a  few  weeks  before,  and  only  by  accident  found  their  way 
to  a  house  on  the  other  side ;  and  that  a  child  which  had  been  lost 
was  not  found  for  five  days,  long  after  its  death.  We,  however, 
nothing  doubting,  set  forth,  ascending  slowly,  and  often  stopping 
to  enjoy  the  points  of  view,  which  are  many,  for  Ben  Lomond 
consists  of  a  congeries  of  hills,  above  which  towers  the  true  Ben, 
or  highest  peak,  as  the  head  of  a  many-limbed  body. 

On  reaching  the  peak,  the  night  was  one  of  beauty  and  grand 
eur  such  as  imagination  never  painted.  You  see  around  you  no 
plain  ground,  but  on  every  side  constellations  or  groups  of  hills 
exquisitely  dressed  in  the  soft  purple  of  the  heather,  amid  which 
gleam  the  lakes,  like  eyes  that  tell  the  secrets  of  the  earth  and 
drink  in  those  of  the  heavens.  Peak  beyond  peak  caught  from 
the  shifting  light  all  the  colors  of  the  prism,  and  on  the  farthest, 
angel  companies  seemed  hovering  in  their  glorious  white  robes. 

Words  are  idle  on  such  subjects ;  what  can  I  say,  but  that  it 
was  a  noble  vision,  that  satisfied  the  eye  and  stirred  the  imagina 
tion  in  all  its  secret  pulses  ?  Had  that  been,  as  afterward  seemed 
likely,  the  last  act  of  my  life,  there  could  not  have  been  a  finer 
decoration  painted  on  the  curtain  which  was  to  drop  upon  it. 

About  four  o'clock  we  began  our  descent.  Near  the  summit 
the  traces  of  the  path  are  not  distinct,  and  I  said  to  Mr.  S.,  after  a 
while,  that  we  had  lost  it.  He  said  he  thought  that  was  of  no 
consequence,  we  could  find  our  way  down.  I  thought  however  it 
was,  as  the  ground  was  full  of  springs  that  were  bridged  over  in 
the  pathway.  He  accordingly  went  to  look  for  it,  and  I  stood 
still  because  so  tired  that  I  did  not  like  to  waste  any  labor.  Soon 
he  called  to  me  that  he  had  found  it,  and  I  followed  in  the  direc 
tion  where  he  seemed  to  be.  But  I  mistook,  overshot  it,  and  saw 
him  no  more.  In  about  ten  minutes  I  became  alarmed,  and 
called  him  many  times.  It  seems  he  on  his  side  did  the  same, 
but  the  brow  of  some  hill  was  between  us,  and  we  neither  saw 
nor  heard  one  another. 

I  then  thought  I  would  make  the  best  of  my  way  down,  and  I 


154  THINGS    AND    THOUGHTS    IN    EUROPE. 

should  find  him  upon  my  arrival.  But  in  doing  so  I  found  the 
justice  of  my  apprehension  about  the  springs,  as,  so  soon  as  I  got 
to  the  foot  of  the  hills,  I  would  sink  up  to  my  knees  in  bog,  and 
have  to  go  up  the  hills  again,  seeking  better  crossing-places. 
Thus  I  lost  much  time ;  nevertheless,  in  the  twilight  I  saw  at  last 
the  lake  and  the  inn  of  Rowardennan  on  its  shore. 

Between  me  and  it  lay  direct  a  high  heathery  hill,  which  I 
afterward  found  is  called  "  The  Tongue,"  because  hemmed  in  on 
three  sides  by  a  watercourse.  It  looked  as  if,  could  I  only  get 
to  the  bottom  of  that,  I  should  be  on  comparatively  level  ground. 
I  then  attempted  to  descend  in  the  watercourse,  but,  finding  that 
impracticable,  climbed  on  the  hill  again  and  let  myself  clown  by 
the  heather,  for  it  was  very  steep  and  full  of  deep  holes.  With 
great  fatigue  I  got  to  the  bottom,  but  when  about  to  cross  the 
watercourse  there,  it  looked  so  deep  in  the  dim  twilight  that  I 
felt  afraid.  I  got  down  as  far  as  I  could  by  the  root  of  a  tree, 
and  threw  down  a  stone  ;  it  sounded  very  hollow,  and  made  me 
afraid  to  jump.  The  shepherds  told  me  afterward,  if  I  had,  I 
should  probably  have  killed  myself,  it  was  so  deep  and  the  bed 
of  the  torrent  full  of  sharp  stones. 

I  then  tried  to  ascend  the  hill  again,  for  there  was  no  other 
way  to  get  off  it,  but  soon  sunk  down  utterly  exhausted.  When 
able  to  get  up  again  and  look  about  me,  it  was  completely  dark. 
I  saw  far  below  me  a  light,  that  looked  about  as  big  as  a  pin's 
head,  which  I  knew  to  be  from  the  inn  at  Rowardennan,  but  heard 
no  sound  except  the  rush  of  the  waterfall,  and  the  sighing  of  the 
night- wind. 

For  the  first  few  minutes  after  I  perceived  I  had  got  to  my 
night's  lodging,  such  as  it  was,  the  prospect  seemed  appalling.  I 
was  very  lightly  clad, — my  feet  and  dress  were  very  wet,  —  I 
had  only  a  little  shawl  to  throw  round  me,  and  a  cold  autumn 
wind  had  already  come,  and  the  night-mist  was  to  fall  on  me,  all 
fevered  and  exhausted  as  I  was.  I  thought  I  should  not  live 
through  the  night,  or,  if  I  did,  live  always  a  miserable  invalid. 
There  was  no  chance  to"  keep  myself  warm  by  walking,  for,  now 
it  was  dark,  it  would  be  too  dangerous  to  stir. 


A   NIGHT    ON    BEN    LOMOND.  155 

My  only  chance,  however,  lay  in  motion,  and  my  only  help  in 
myself,  and  so  convinced  was  I  of  this,  that  I  did  keep  in  motion 
the  whole  of  that  long  night,  imprisoned  as  I  was  on  such  a  little 
perch  of  that  great  mountain.  How  long  it  seemed  under  such 
circumstances  only  those  can  guess  who  may  have  been  similarly 
circumstanced.  The  mental  experience  of  the  time,  most  pre 
cious  and  profound,  —  for  it  was  indeed  a  season  lonely,  dangerous, 
and  helpless  enough  for  the  birth  of  thoughts  beyond  what  the 
common  sunlight  will  ever  call  to  being,  —  may  be  told  in  another 
place  and  time. 

For  about  two  hours  I  saw  the  stars,  and  very  cheery  and  com 
panionable  they  looked  ;  but  then  the  mist  fell,  and  I  saw  nothing 
more,  except  such  apparitions  as  visited  Ossian  on  the  hill-side 
when  he  went  out  by  night  and  struck  the  bosky  shield  and  called 
to  him  the  spirits  of  the  heroes  and  the  white-armed  maids  with 
their  blue  eyes  of  grief.  To  me,  too,  came  those  visionary  shapes ; 
floating  slowly  and  gracefully,  their  white  robes  would  unfurl  from 
the  great  body  of  mist  in  which  they  had  been  engaged,  and  come 
upon  me  with  a  kiss  pervasively  cold  as  that  of  death.  What  they 
might  have  told  me,  who  knows,  if  I  had  but  resigned  myself  more 
passively  to  that  cold,  spirit-like  breathing ! 

At  last  the  moon  rose.  I  could  not  see  her,  but  the  silver  light 
filled  the  mist.  Then  I  knew  it  was  two  o'clock,  and  that,  having 
weathered  out  so  much  of  the  night,  I  might  the  rest ;  and  the 
hours  hardly  seemed  long  to  me  more. 

It  may  give  an  idea  of  the  extent  of  the  mountain  to  say  that, 
though  I  called  every  now  and  then  with  all  my  force,  in  case  by 
chance  some  aid  might  be  near,  and  though  no  less  than  twenty 
men  with  their  dogs  were  looking  for  me,  I  never  heard  a  sound 
except  the  rush  of  the  waterfall  and  the  sighing  of  the  night- 
wind,  and  once  or  twice  the  startling  of  the  grouse  in  the  heather. 
It  was  sublime  indeed,  —  a  never-to-be-forgotten  presentation  of 
stern,  serene  realities. 

At  last  came  the  signs  of  day,  the  gradual  clearing  and  break 
ing  up  ;  some  faint  sounds,  from  I  know  not  what.  The  little  flies, 
too,  arose  from  their  bed  amid  the  purple  heather,  and  bit  me; 


156  THINGS    AND    THOUGHTS    IN    EUROPE. 

truly  they  were  very  welcome  to  do  so.  But  what  was  my  dis 
appointment  to  find  the  mist  so  thick,  that  I  could  see  neither  lake 
nor  inn,  nor  anything  to  guide  me.  I  had  to  go  by  guess,  and, 
as  it  happened,  my  Yankee  method  served  me  well.  I  ascended 
the  hill,  crossed  the  torrent  in  the  waterfall,  first  drinking  some  of 
the  water,  which  was  as  good  at  that  time  as  ambrosia.  I  crossed 
in  that  place  because  the  waterfall  made  steps,  as  it  were,  to  the 
next  hill ;  to  be  sure  they  were  covered  with  water,  but  I  was  al 
ready  entirely  wet  with  the  mist,  so  that  it  did  not  matter.  I  then 
kept  on  scrambling,  as  it  happened,  in  the  right  direction,  till,  about 
seven,  some  of  the  shepherds  found  me.  The  moment  they  came, 
all  my  feverish  strength  departed,  though,  if  unaided,  I  dare  say  it 
would  have  kept  me  up  during  the  day  ;  and  they  carried  me  home, 
where  my  arrival  relieved  my  friends  of  distress  far  greater  than 
I  had  undergone,  for  I  had  had  rny  grand  solitude,  my  Ossianic 
visions,  and  the  pleasure  of  sustaining  myself,  while  they  had 
only  doubt  amounting  to  anguish  and  a  fruitless  search  through 
the  night. 

Entirely  contrary  to  my  expectations,  I  only  suffered  for  this 
a  few  days,  and  was  able  to  take  a  parting  look  at  my  prison, 
as  I  went  down  the  lake,  with  feelings  of  complacency.  It  was 
a  majestic-looking  hill,  that  Tongue,  with  the  deep  ravines  on 
either  side,  and  the  richest  robe  of  heather  I  have  seen  any 
where. 

Mr.  S.  gave  all  the  men  who  were  looking  for  me  a  dinner  in 
the  barn,  and  he  and  Mrs.  S.  ministered  to  them,  and  they  talked 
of  Burns,  really  the  national  writer,  and  known  by  them,  appar 
ently,  as  none  other  is,  and  of  hair-breadth  escapes  by  flood  and 
fell.  Afterwards  they  were  all  brought  up  to  see  me,  and  it  was 
pleasing  indeed  to  observe  the  good  breeding  and  good  feeling'  wish 
which  they  deported  themselves  on  the  occasion.  Indeed,  this 
adventure  created  quite  an  intimate  feeling  between  us  and  the 
people  there.  I  had  been  much  pleased  with  them  before,  in  at 
tending  one  of  their  dances,  on  account  of  the  genuine  indepen 
dence  and  politeness  of  their  conduct.  They  were  willing  and 
pleased  to  dance  their  Highland  flings  and  strathspeys  for  our 


SCOTCH    PEASANTRY.  157 

amusement,  and  did  it  as  naturally  and  as  freely  as  they  would 
Lave  offered  the  stranger  the  best  chair. 

All  the  rest  must  wait  a  while.  I  cannot  economize  time  to 
keep  up  my  record  in  any  proportion  with  what  happens,  nor  can 
I  get  out  of  Scotland  on  this  page,  as  I  had  intended,  without  ut 
terly  slighting  many  gifts  and  graces. 


14 


LETTER    VI. 

Inverary.  —  The  Argyle  Family.  —  Dumbarton.  —  Sunset  on  the  Clyde.  —  Glas 
gow.  —  Dirt  and  Intellect.  —  Stirling.  —  "  The  Scottish  Chiefs."—  Stirling  Cas 
tle.  —  The  Tournament  Ground.  —  Edinburgh.  —  James  Simpson.  —  Infant 
Schools.  —  Free  Baths.  —  Melrose.  —  Abbotsford.  —  Walter  Scott.  —  Dryburgh 
Abbey.  —  Scott's  Tomb. 

Paris,  .November,  1846. 

I  AM  very  sorry  to  leave  such  a  wide  gap  between  my  letters, 
but  I  was  inevitably  prevented  from  finishing  one  that  was  begun 
for  the  steamer  of  the  4th  of  November.  I  then  hoped  to  prepare 
one  after  my  arrival  here  in  time  for  the  Hibernia,  but  a  severe 
cold,  caught  on  the  way,  unfitted  me  for  writing.  It  is  now  neces 
sary  to  retrace  my  steps  a  long  way,  or  lose  sight  of  several  things 
it  has  seemed  desirable  to  mention  to  friends  in  America,  though 
I  shall  make  out  my  narrative  more  briefly  than  if  nearer  the 
time  of  action. 

If  I  mistake  not,  my  last  closed  just  as  I  was  looking  back  on 
the  hill  where  I  had  passed  the  night  in  all  the  miserable  chill 
and  amid  the  ghostly  apparitions  of  a  Scotch  mist,  but  which 
looked  in  the  morning  truly  beautiful,  and  (had  I  not  known  it  too 
well  to  be  deceived)  alluring,  in  its  mantle  of  rich  pink  heath,  the 
tallest  and  most  full  of  blossoms  we  anywhere  saw,  and  with  the 
waterfall  making  music  by  its  side,  and  sparkling  in  the  morning 
sun. 

Passing  from  Tarbet,  we  entered  the  grand  and  beautiful  pass 
of  Glencoe,  —  sublime  with  purple  shadows  with  bright  lights  be 
tween,  and  in  one  place  showing  an  exquisitely  silent  and  lonely 
little  lake.  The  wildness  of  the  scene  was  heightened  by  the  black 


GLASGOW.  159 

Highland  cattle  feeding  here  and  there.  '  They  looked  much  at 
home,  too,  in  the  park  at  Inverary,  where  I  saw  them  next  day. 
In  Inverary  I  was  disappointed.  I  found,  indeed,  the  position  of 
every  object  the  same  as  indicated  in  the  "  Legend  of  Montrose," 
but  the  expression  of  the  whole  seemed  unlike  what  I  had  fan 
cied.  The  present  abode  of  the  Argyle  family  is  a  modern  struc 
ture,  and  boasts  very  few  vestiges  of  the  old  romantic  history 
attached  to  the  name.  The  park  and  look-out  upon  the  lake  are 
beautiful,  but  except  from  the  brief  pleasure  derived  from  these, 
the  old  cross  from  lona  that  stands  in  the  market-place,  and  the 
drone  of  the  bagpipe  which  lulled  me  to  sleep  at  night  playing 
some  melancholy  air,  there  was  nothing  to  make  me  feel  that  it 
was  "  a  far  cry  to  Lochawe,"  but,  on  the  contrary,  I  seemed  in  the 
very  midst  of  the  prosaic,  the  civilized  world. 

Leaving  Inverary,  we  left  that  day  the  Highlands  too,  passing 
through  Hell  Glen,  a  very  wild  and  grand  defile.  Taking  boat 
then  on  Loch  Levy,  we  passed  down  the  Clyde,  stopping  an  hour 
or  two  on  our  way  at  Dumbarton.  Nature  herself  foresaw  the 
era  of  picture  when  she  made  and  placed  this  rock  :  there  is  every 
preparation  for  the  artist's  stealing  a  little  piece  from  her  treasures 
to  hang  on  the  walls  of  a  room.  Here  I  saw  the  sword  of  "  Wal 
lace  wight,"  shown  by  a  son  of  the  nineteenth  century,  who  said 
that  this  hero  lived  about  fifty  years  ago,  and  who  did  not  know 
the  height  of  this  rock,  in  a  cranny  of  which  he  lived,  or  at  least 
ate  and  slept  and  "  donned  his  clothes."  From  the  top  of  the  rock 
I  saw  sunset  on  the  beautiful  Clyde,  animated  that  day  by  an  end 
less  procession  of  steamers,  little  skiffs,  and  boats.  In  one  of  the 
former,  the  Cardiff  Castle,  we  embarked  as  the  last  light  of  day 
was  fading,  and  that  evening  found  ourselves  in  Glasgow. 

I  understand  there  is  an  intellectual  society  of  high  merit  in 
Glasgow,  but  we  were  there  only  a  few  hours,  and  did  not  see  any 
one.  Certainly  the  place,  as  it  may  be  judged  of  merely  from  the 
general  aspect  of  the  population  and  such  objects  as  may  be  seen 
in  the  streets,  more  resembles  an  Inferno  than  any  other  we  have 
yet  visited.  The  people  are  more  crowded  together,  and  the 
stamp  of  squalid,  stolid  misery  and  degradation  more  obvious  and 


160  THINGS    AND    THOUGHTS    IN    EUROPE. 

appalling.  The  English  and  Scotch  do  not  take  kindly  to  pov 
erty,  like  those  of  sunnier  climes ;  it  makes  them  fierce  or  stupid, 
and,  life  presenting  no  other  cheap  pleasure,  they  take  refuge  in 
drinking. 

I  saw  here  in  Glasgow  persons,  especially  women,  dressed  in 
dirty,  wretched  tatters,  worse  than  none,  and  with  an  expression 
of  listless,  unexpecting  woe  upon  their  faces,  far  more  tragic  than 
the  inscription  over  the  gate  of  Dante's  Inferno.  To  one  species 
of  misery  suffered  here  to  the  last  extent,  I  shall  advert  in  speak 
ing  of  London. 

But  from  all  these  sorrowful  tokens  I  by  no  means  inferred  the 
falsehood  of  the  information,  that  here  was  to  be  found  a  circle 
rich  in  intellect  and  in  aspiration.  The  manufacturing  and  com 
mercial  towns,  burning  focuses  of  grief  and  vice,  are  also  the  cen 
tres  of  intellectual  life,  as  in  forcing-beds  the  rarest  flowers  and 
fruits  are  developed  by  use  of  impure  and  repulsive  materials. 
Where  evil  comes  to  an  extreme,  Heaven  seems  busy  in  providing 
means  for  the  remedy.  Glaring  throughout  Scotland  and  Eng 
land  is  the  necessity  for  the  devoutest  application  of  intellect  and 
love  to  the  cure  of  ills  that  cry  aloud,  and,  without  such  applica 
tion,  erelong  help  must  be  sought  by  other  means  than  words. 
Yet  there  is  every  reason  to  hope  that  those  who  ought  to  help 
are  seriously,  though  slowly,  becoming  alive  to  the  imperative 
nature  of  this  duty ;  so  we  must  not  cease  to  hope,  even  in  the 
streets  of  Glasgow,  and  the  gin-palaces  of  Manchester,  and  the 
dreariest  recesses  of  London. 

From  Glasgow  we  passed  to  Stirling,  like  Dumbarton  endeared 
to  the  mind  which  cherishes  the  memory  of  its  childhood  more 
by  association  with  Miss  Porter's  Scottish  Chiefs,  than  with 
"  Snowdon's  knight  and  Scotland's  king."  We  reached  the  town 
too  late  to  see  the  castle  before  the  next  morning,  and  I  took  up 
at  the  inn  "  The  Scottish  Chiefs,"  in  which  I  had  not  read  a  word 
since  ten  or  twelve  years  old.  We  are  in  the  habit  now  of  laugh 
ing  when  this  book  is  named,  as  if  it  Avere  a  representative  of 
what  is  most  absurdly  stilted  or  bombastic,  but  now,  in  reading, 
my  maturer  mind  was  differently  impressed  from  what  I  expected, 


STIRLING    CASTLE.  161 

and  the  infatuation  with  which  childhood  and  early  youth  regard 
this  book  and  its  companion,  "  Thaddeus  of  Warsaw,"  was  justi 
fied.  The  characters  and  dialogue  are,  indeed,  out  of  nature,  but 
the  sentiment  that  animates  them  is  pure,  true,  and  no  less  healthy 
than  noble.  Here  is  bad  drawing,  bad  drama,  but  good  music,  to 
which  the  unspoiled  heart  will  always  echo,  even  when  the  intel 
lect  has  learned  to  demand  a  better  organ  for  its  communication. 

The  castle  of  Stirling  is  as  rich  as  any  place  in  romantic  asso 
ciations.  We  were  shown  its  dungeons  and  its  Court  of  Lions, 
where,  says  tradition,  wild  animals,  kept  in  the  grated  cells  adja 
cent,  were  brought  out  on  festival  occasions  to  furnish  entertain 
ment  for  the  court.  So,  while  lords  and  ladies  gay  danced  and 
sang  above,  prisoners  pined  and  wild  beasts  starved  below.  This, 
at  first  blush,  looks  like  a  very  barbarous  state  of  things,  but,  on 
reflection,  one  does  not  find  that  we  have  outgrown  it  in  our  pres 
ent  so-called  state  of  refined  civilization,  only  the  present  way  of 
expressing  the  same  facts  is  a  little  different.  Still  lords  and 
ladies  dance  and  sing,  unknowing  or  uncaring  that  the  laborers 
who  minister  to  their  luxuries  starve  or  are  turned  into  wild 
beasts.  Man  need  not  boast  his  condition,  methinks,  till  he  can 
weave  his  costly  tapestry  without  the  side  that  is  kept  under  look 
ing  thus  sadly. 

The  tournament  ground  is  still  kept  green  and  in  beautiful 
order,  near  Stirling  castle,  as  a  memento  of  the  olden  time,  and 
as  we  passed  away  down  the  beautiful  Firth,  a  turn  of  the  river 
gave  us  a  very  advantageous  view  of  it.  So  gay  it  looked,  so 
festive  in  the  bright  sunshine,  one  almost  seemed  to  see  the  grace 
ful  forms  of  knight  and  noble  pricking  their  good  steeds  to  the 
encounter,  or  the  stalwart  Douglas,  vindicating  his  claim  to  be 
indeed  a  chief  by  conquest  in  the  rougher  sports  of  the  yeo 
manry. 

Passing  along  the  Firth  to  Edinburgh,  we  again  passed  two  or 
three  days  in  that  beautiful  city,  which  I  could  not  be  content  to 
leave  so  imperfectly  seen,  if  I  had  not  some  hope  of  revisiting  it 
when  the  bright  lights  that  adorn  it  are  concentred  there.  In 
summer  almost  every  one  is  absent.  I  was  very  fortunate  to  see 
14* 


162  THINGS    AND    THOUGHTS    IN    EUROPE. 

as  many  interesting  persons  as  I  did.  On  this  second  visit  I  saw 
James  Simpson,  a  well-known  philanthropist,  and  leader  in  the 
cause  of  popular  education.  Infant  schools  have  been  an  especial 
care  of  his,  and  America  as  well  as  Scotland  has  received  the 
benefit  of  his  thoughts  on  this  subject.  His  last  good  work  has 
been  to  induce  the  erection  of  public  baths  in  Edinburgh,  and  the 
working  people  of  that  place,  already  deeply  in  his  debt  for  the 
lectures  he  has  been  unwearied  in  delivering  for  their  benefit, 
have  signified  their  gratitude  by  presenting  him  with  a  beautiful 
model  of  a  fountain  in  silver  as  an  ornament  to  his  study.  Never 
was  there  a  place  where  such  a  measure  would  be  more  impor 
tant;  if  cleanliness  be  akin  to  godliness,  Edinburgh  stands  at 
great  disadvantage  in  her  devotions.  The  impure  air,  the  terrific 
dirt  which  surround  the  working  people,  must  make  all  progress 
in  higher  culture  impossible  ;  and  I  saw  nothing  which  seemed  to 
me  so  likely  to  have  results  of  incalculable  good,  as  this  practical 
measure  of  the  Simpsons  in  support  of  the  precept, 

"  Wash  and  be  clean  every  whit." 

We  returned  into  England  by  the  way  of  Melrose,  not  content 
to  leave  Scotland  without  making  our  pilgrimage  to  Abbotsford. 
The  universal  feeling,  however,  has  made  this  pilgrimage  so  com 
mon  that  there  is  nothing  left  for  me  to  say ;  yet,  though  I  had 
read  a  hundred  descriptions,  everything  seemed  new  as  I  went 
over  this  epitome  of  the  mind  and  life  of  Scott.  As  what  consti 
tutes  the  great  man  is  more  commonly  some  extraordinary  com 
bination  and  balance  of  qualities,  than  the  highest  development 
of  any  one,  so  you  cannot  but  here  be  struck  anew  by  the  sin 
gular  combination  in  Scott's  mind  of  love  for  the  picturesque  and 
romantic  with  the  plainest  common  sense,  —  a  delight  in  heroic 
excess  with  the  prudential  habit  of  order.  Here  the  most  pleas 
ing  order  pervades  emblems  of  what  men  commonly  esteem  dis 
order  and  excess. 

Amid  the  exquisite  beauty  of  the  ruins  of  Dryburgh,  I  saw 
with  regret  that  Scott's  body  rests  in  almost  the  only  spot  that  is 
not  green,  an<J  cannot  well  be  made  so,  for  the  light  does  not 


SCOTT'S  TOMB.  163 

reach  it.     That  is  not  a  fit  couch  for  him  who  dressed  so  many 
dim  and  time-worn  relics  with  living  green. 

Always  cheerful  and  beneficent,  Scott  seemed  to  the  common 
eye  in  like  measure  prosperous  and  happy,  up  to  the  last  years, 
and  the  chair  in  which,  under  the  pressure  of  the  sorrows  which 
led  to  his  death,  he  was  propped  up  to  write  when  brain  and  eye 
and  hand  refused  their  aid,  the  product  remaining  only  as  a 
guide  to  the  speculator  as  to  the  workings  of  the  mind  in  case  of 
insanity  or  approaching  imbecility,  would  by  most  persons  be 
viewed  as  the  only  saddening  relic  of  his  career.  Yet  when  I 
recall  some  passages  in  the  Lady  of  the  Lake,  and  the  Address  to 
his  Harp,  I  cannot  doubt  that  Scott  had  the  full  share  of  bitter  in 
his  cup,  and  feel  the  tender  hope  that  we  do  about  other  gentle 
and  generous  guardians  and  benefactors  of  our  youth,  that  in  a 
nobler  career  they  are  now  fulfilling  still  higher  duties  with  se- 
rener  mind.  Doubtless  too  they  are  trusting  in  us  that  we  will 
try  to  fill  then*  places  with  kindly  deeds,  ardent  thoughts,  nor  leave 
the  world,  in  their  absence, 

"  A  dim,  vast  vale  of  tears, 
Vacant  and  desolate." 


LETTER    VII. 

Newcastle.  —  Descent  into  a  Coal-Mine.  —  York  with  its  Minster.  —  Sheffield.  — 
Chatsworth.  —  Warwick  Castle.  —  Leamington  and  Stratford.  —  Shakespeare. 
—  Birmingham.  —  George  Dawson. — James  Martineau.  —  W.  J.  Fox.  —  W. 
H.  Channing  and  Theodore  Parker.  —  London  and  Paris. 

Paris,  1846. 

WE  crossed  the  moorland  in  a  heavy  rain,  and  reached  New 
castle  late  at  night.  Next  day  we  descended  into  a  coal-mine  ;  it 
was  quite  an  odd  sensation  to  be  taken  off  one's  feet  and  dropped 
down  into  darkness  by  the  bucket.  The  stables  under  ground 
had  a  pleasant  Gil-Bias  air,  though  the  poor  horses  cannot  like  it 
much ;  generally  they  see  the  light  of  day  no  more  after  they 
have  once  been  let  down  into  these  gloomy  recesses,  but  pass  their 
days  in  dragging  cars  along  the  rails  of  the  narrow  passages,  and 
their  nights  in  eating  hay  and  dreaming  of  grass ! !  When  we 
went  down,  we  meant  to  go  along  the  gallery  to  the  place  where 
the  miners  were  then  at  work,  but  found  this  was  a  walk  of  a 
mile  and  a  half,  and,  beside  the  weariness  of  picking  one's  steps 
slowly  along  by  the  light  of  a  tallow  candle,  too  wet  and  dirty  an 
enterprise  to  be  undertaken  by  way  of  amusement ;  so,  after  pro 
ceeding  half  a  mile  or  so,  we  begged  to  be  restored  to  our  accus 
tomed  level,  and  reached  it  with  minds  slightly  edified  and  face 
and  hands  much  blackened. 

Passing  thence  we  saw  York  with  its  Minster,  that  dream  of 
beauty  realized.  From  its  roof  I  saw  two  rainbows,  overarching 
that  lovely  country.  Through  its  aisles  I  heard  grand  music 
pealing.  But  how  sorrowfully  bare  is  the  interior  of  such  a  ca 
thedral,  despoiled  of  the  statues,  the  paintings,  and  the  garlands 


WARWICK    CASTLE.  165 

that  belong  to  the  Catholic  religion !  The  eye  aches  for  them. 
Such  a  church  is  ruined  by  Protestantism  ;  its  admirable  ex 
terior  seems  that  of  a  sepulchre ;  there  is  no  correspondent  life 
within. 

Within  the  citadel,  a  tower  half  ruined  and  ivy-clad,  is  life 
that  has  been  growing  up  while  the  exterior  bulwarks  of  the  old 
feudal  time  crumbled  to  ruin.  George  Fox,  while  a  prisoner  at 
York  for  obedience  to  the  dictates  of  his  conscience,  planted  here 
a  walnut,  and  the  tall  tree  that  grew  from  it  still  "  bears  testimony  " 
to  his  living  presence  on  that  spot.  The  tree  is  old,  but  still  bears 
nuts ;  one  of  them  was  taken  away  by  my  companions,  and  may 
perhaps  be  the  parent  of  a  tree  somewhere  in  America,  that  shall 
shade  those  who  inherit  the  spirit,  if  they  do  not  attach  importance 
to  the  etiquettes,  of  Quakerism. 

In  Sheffield  I  saw  the  sooty  servitors  tending  their  furnaces. 
I  saw  them  also  on  Saturday  night,  after  their  work  was  done,  go 
ing  vo  receive  its  poor  wages,  looking  pallid  and  dull,  as  if  they 
had  spent  on  tempering  the  steel  that  vital  force  that  should  have 
tempered  themselves  to  manhood. 

We  saw,  also,  Chats  worth,  with  its  park  and  mock  wilderness, 
and  immense  conservatory,  and  really  splendid  fountains  and  wealth 
of  marbles.  It  is  a  fine  expression  of  modern  luxury  and  splen 
dor,  but  did  not  interest  me ;  I  found  little  there  of  true  beauty  or 
grandeur. 

Warwick  Castle  is  a  place  entirely  to  my  mind,  a  real  represen 
tative  of  the  English  aristocracy  in  the  day  of  its  nobler  life.  The 
grandeur  of  the  pile  itself,  and  its  beauty  of  position,  introduce  you 
fitly  to  the  noble  company  with  which  the  genius  of  Vandyke  has 
peopled  its  walls.  But  a  short  time  was  allowed  to  look  upon 
these  nobles,  warriors,  statesmen,  and  ladies,  who  gaze  upon  us  in 
turn  with  such  a  majesty  of  historic  association,  yet  was  I  very 
well  satisfied.  It  is  not  difficult  to  see  men  through  the  eyes  of 
Vandyke.  His  way  of  viewing  character  seems  superficial,' 
though  commanding  ;  he  sees  the  man  in  his  action  on  the 
crowd,  not  in  his  hidden  life;  he  does  not,  like  some  painters, 
amaze  and  engross  us  by  his  revelations  as  to  the  secret  springs 


1G6  THINGS    AND    THOUGHTS    IN    EUROPE. 

of  conduct.  I  know  not  by  what  hallucination  I  forebore  to  look 
at  the  picture  I  most  desired  to  see,  —  that  of  Lucy,  Countess  of 
Carlisle.  I  was  looking  at  something  else,  and  when  the  fat, 
pompous  butler  announced  her,  I  did  not  recognize  her  name  from 
his  mouth.  Afterward  it  flashed  across  me,  that  I  had  really 
been  standing  before  her  and  forgotten  to  look.  But  repentance 
was  too  late  ;  I  had  passed  the  castle  gate  to  return  no  more. 

Pretty  Leamington  and  Stratford  are  hackneyed  ground.  Of 
the  latter  I  only  observed  what,  if  I  knew,  I  had  forgotten, 
that  the  room  where  Shakespeare  was  born  has  been  an  object  of 
devotion  only  for  forty  years.  England  has  learned  much  of  her 
appreciation  of  Shakespeare  from  the  Germans.  In  the  days  of 
innocence,  I  fondly  supposed  that  every  one  who  could  understand 
English,  and  was  not  a  cannibal,  adored  Shakespeare  and  read 
him  on  Sundays  always  for  an  hour  or  more,  and  on  week  days  a 
considerable  portion  of  the  time.  But  I  have  lived  to  know 
some  hundreds  of  persons  in  my  native  land,  without  finding  ten 
who  had  any  direct  acquaintance  with  their  greatest  benefactor, 
and  I  dare  say  in  England  as  large  an  experience  would  not  end 
more  honorably  to  its  subjects.  So  vast  a  treasure  is  left  un 
touched,  while  men  are  complaining  of  being  poor,  because  they 
have  not  toothpicks  exactly  to  their  mind. 

At  Stratford  I  handled,  too,  the  poker  used  to  such  good  pur 
pose  by  Geoffrey  Crayon.  The  muse  had  fled,  the  fire  was  out, 
and  the  poker  rusty,  yet  a  pleasant  influence  lingered  even  in 
that  cold  little  room,  and  seemed  to  lend  a  transient  glow  to  the 
poker  under  the  influence  of  sympathy. 

In  Birmingham  I  heard  two  discourses  from  one  of  the  rising 
lights  of  England,  George  Dawson,  a  young  man  of  whom  I  had 
earlier  heard  much  in  praise.  He  is  a  friend  of  the  people,  in 
the  sense  of  brotherhood,  not  of  a  social  convenience  or  pat 
ronage  ;  in  literature  catholic  ;  in  matters  of  religion  antisec- 
tarian,  seeking  truth  in  aspiration  and  love.  He  is  eloquent,  with 
good  method  in  his  discourse,  fire  and  dignity  when  wanted,  with 
a  frequent  homeliness  in  enforcement  and  illustration  which  of 
fends  the  etiquettes  of  England,  but  fits  him  the  better  for  the 


MARTINEAU    AND    FOX.  1  G7 

class  he  has  to  address.  His  powers  are  uncommon  and"  unfet 
tered  in  their  play ;  his  aim  is  worthy.  He  is  fulfilling  and  will 
fulfil  an  important  task  as  an  educator  of  the  people,  if  all  be  not 
marred  by  a  taint  of  self-love  and  arrogance  now  obvious  in  his 
discourse.  This  taint  is  not  surprising  in  one  so  young,  who  has 
done  so  much,  and  in  order  to  do  it  has  been  compelled  to  great 
self-confidence  and  light  heed  of  the  authority  of  other  minds,  and 
who  is  surrounded  almost  exclusively  by  admirers  ;  neither  is  it, 
at  present,  a  large  speck ;  it  may  be  quite  purged  from  him  by 
the  influence  of  nobler  motives  and  the  rise  of  his  ideal  standard ; 
but,  on  the  other  hand,  should  it  spread,  all  must  be  vitiated. 
Let  us  hope  the  best,  for  he  is  one  that  could  ill  be  spared  from 
the  band  who  have  taken  up  the  cause  of  Progress  in  England. 

In  this  connection  I  may  as  well  speak  of  James  Martineau, 
whom  I  heard  in  Liverpool,  and  W.  J.  Fox,  whom  I  heard  in 
London. 

Mr.  Martineau  looks  like  the  over-intellectual,  the  partially 
developed  man,  and  his  speech  confirms  this  impression.  He  is 
sometimes  conservative,  sometimes  reformer,  not  in  the  sense  of 
eclecticism,  but  because  his  powers  and  views  do  not  find  a  true 
harmony.  On  the  conservative  side  he  is  scholarly,  acute,  —  on 
the  other,  pathetic,  pictorial,  generous.  He  is  no  prophet  and  no 
sage,  yet  a  man  full  of  fine  affections  and  thoughts,  always  sugges 
tive,  sometimes  satisfactory ;  he  is  well  adapted  to  the  wants  of 
that  class,  a  large  one  in  the  present  day,  who  love  the  new 
wine,  but  do  not  feel  that  they  can  afford  to  throw  away  all  their 
old  bottles. 

Mr.  Fox  is  the  reverse  of  all  this :  he  is  homogeneous  in  his 
materials  and  harmonious  in  the  results  he  produces.  He  has 
great  persuasive  power ;  it  is  the  persuasive  power  of  a  mind 
warmly  engaged  in  seeking  truth  for  itself.  He  sometimes 
carries  homeward  convictions  with  great  energy,  driving  in  the 
thought  as  with  golden  nails.  A  glow  of  kindly  human  sympathy 
enlivens  his  argument,  and  the  whole  presents  thought  in  a  well- 
proportioned,  animated  body.  But  I  am  told  he  is  far  superior  in 
speech  on  political  or  social  problems,  than  on  such  as  I  heard 
him  discuss. 


168  THINGS    AND    THOUGHTS    IN    EUROPE. 

I  was  reminded,  in  hearing  all  three,  of  men  similarly  engaged 
in  our  country,  W.  H.  Channing  and  Theodore  Parker.  None  of 
them  compare  in  the  symmetrical  arrangement  of  extempore  dis 
course,  or  in  pure  eloquence  and  communication  of  spiritual  beauty, 
with  Channing,  nor  in  fulness  and  sustained  flow  with  Parker, 
but,  in  power  of  practical  and  homely  adaptation  of  their  thought 
to  common  wants,  they  are  superior  to  the  former,  and  all  have 
more  variety,  finer  perceptions,  and  are  more  powerful  in  single 
passages,  than  Parker. 

And  now  my  pen  has  run  to  1st  October,  and  still  I  have  such 
notabilities  as  fell  to  my  lot  to  observe  while  in  London,  and 
these  that  are  thronging  upon  me  here  in  Paris  to  record  for  you. 
I  am  sadly  in  arrears,  but 't  is  comfort  to  think  that  such  meats  as 
I  have  to  serve  up  are  as  good  cold  as  hot.  At  any  rate,  it  is 
just  impossible  to  do  any  better,  and  I  shall  comfort  myself,  as 
often  before,  with  the  triplet  which  I  heard  in  childhood  from  a 
sage  (if  only  sages  wear  wigs  !):  — 

"As  said  the  great  Prince  Fernando, 
What  can  a  man  do, 
More  than  he  can  do?  " 


LETTER    VIII. 

Recollections  of  London.  —  The  English  Gentleman.  —  London  Climate.  —  Out 
of  Season.  —  Luxury  and  Misery.  —  A  Difficult  Problem.  —  Terrors  of  Pover 
ty. —  Joanna  Baillie  and  Madame  Koland.  —  Hampstead.  —  Miss  Berry. — 
Female  Artists.  —  Margaret  Gillies.  —  The  People's  Journal. —  The  Times. — 
The  Howitts. —  South  wood  Smith  — Houses  for  the  Poor.  —  Skeleton  of 
Jeremy  Bentham.  —  Cooper  the  Poet.  —  Thorn. 

Paris,  December,  1846. 

I  SIT  down  here  in  Paris  to  narrate  some  recollections  of  London. 
The  distance  in  space  and  time  is  not  great,  yet  I  seem  in  wholly  a 
different  world.  Here  in  the  region  of  wax-lights,  mirrors,  bright 
wood  fires,  shrugs,  vivacious  ejaculations,  wreathed  smiles,  and 
adroit  courtesies,  it  is  hard  to  remember  John  Bull,  with  his  coal- 
smoke,  hands  in  pockets,  except  when  extended  for  ungracious 
demand  of  the  perpetual  half-crown,  or  to  pay  for  the  all  but  per 
petual  mug  of  beer.  John,  seen  on  that  side,  is  certainly  the  most 
churlish  of  clowns,  and  the  most  clownish  of  churls.  But  then 
there  are  so  many  other  sides  !  When  a  gentleman,  he  is  so  truly 
the  gentleman,  when  a  man,  so  truly  the  man  of  honor!  His 
graces,  when  he  has  any,  grow  up  from  his  inmost  heart. 

Not  that  he  is  free  from  humbug ;  on  the  contrary,  he  is  prone 
to  the  most  solemn  humbug,  generally  of  the  philanthropise  or 
otherwise  moral  kind.  But  he  is  always  awkward  beneath  the 
mask,  and  can  never  impose  upon  anybody  —  but  himself. 
Nature  meant  him  to  be  noble,  generous,  sincere,  and  has  fur 
nished  him  with  no  faculties  to  make  himself  agreeable  in  any 
other  way  or  mode  of  being.  'T  is  not  so  with  your  Frenchman, 
who  can  cheat  you  pleasantly,  and  move  with  grace  in  the  devious 
and  slippery  path.  You  would  be  almost  sorry  to  see  him  quite 
15 


170  THINGS    AND    THOUGHTS    IN    EUROPE. 

disinterested  and  straightforward,  so  much  of  agreeable  talent 
and  naughty  wit  would  thus  lie  hid  for  want  of  use.  But  John, 
O  John,  we  must  admire,  esteem,  or  be  disgusted  with  thee. 

As  to  climate,  there  is  not  much  to  choose  at  this  time  of  year. 
In  London,  for  six  weeks,  we  never  saw  the  sun  for  coal-smoke 
and  fog.  In  Paris  we  have  not  been  blessed  with  its  cheering 
rays  above  three  or  four  days  in  the  same  length  of  time,  and 
are,  beside,  tormented  with  an  oily  and  tenacious  mud  beneath 
the  feet,  which  makes  it  almost  impossible  to  walk.  This  year, 
indeed,  is  an  uncommonly  severe  one  at  Paris ;  but  then,  if  they 
have  their  share  of  dark,  cold  days,  it  must  be  admitted  that 
they  do  all  they  can  to  enliven  them. 

But  to  dwell  first  on  London,  —  London,  in  itself  a  world. 
We  arrived  at  a  time  which  the  well-bred  Englishman  considers 
as  no  time  at  all,  —  quite  out  of  "  the  season,"  when  Parliament  is 
in  session,  and  London  thronged  with  the  equipages  of  her  aris 
tocracy,  her  titled  wealthy  nobles.  I  was  listened  to  with  a 
siniic  of  contempt  when  I  declared  that  the  stock  shows  of  Lon 
don  would  yield  me  amusement  and  employment  more  than  suffi 
cient  for  the  time  I  had  to  stay.  But  I  found  that,  with  my  way 
of  viewing  things,  it  would  be  to  me  an  inexhaustible  studio,  and 
that,  if  life  were  only  long  enough,  I  would  live  there  for  years 
obscure  in  some  corner,  from  which  I  could  issue  forth  day  by 
day  :o  watch  unobserved  the  vast  stream  of  life,  or  to  decipher 
thtj  hieroglyphics  which  ages  have  been  inscribing  on  the  walls  of 
this  vast  palace  (I  may  not  call  it  a  temple),  which  human  effort 
has  reared  for  means,  not  yet  used  efficaciously,  of  human  culture. 

Anc^  though  I  wish  to  return  to  London  in  "the  season,"  when 
thnt  city  is  an  adequate  representative  of  the  state  of  things  in 
England,  I  am  glad  I  did  not  at  first  see  all-  that  pomp  and 
parade  of  wealth  and  luxury  in  contrast  with  the  misery,  squalid, 
agonizing,  ruffianly,  which  stares  one  in  the  face  in  every  street 
of  London,  and  hoots  at  the  gates  of  her  palaces  more  ominous  a 
note  than  ever  was  that  of  owl  or  raven  in  the  portentous  times 
when  empires  and  races  have  crumbled  and  fallen  from  inward 
decay. 


JOANNA    BAILLTE.  171 

It  i»  impossible,  however,  to  take  a  near  view  of  the  treasures 
created  by  English  genius,  accumulated  by  English  industry, 
without  a  prayer,  daily  more  fervent,  that  the  needful  changes  in 
the  condition  of  this  people  may  be  effected  by  peaceful  revolu 
tion,  which  shall  destroy  nothing  except  the  shocking  inhumanity 
of  exclusiveness,  which  now  prevents  their  being  used  for  the 
benefit  of  all.  May  their  present  possessors  look  to  it  in  time ! 
A  few  already  are  earnest  in  a  good  spirit.  For  myself,  much 
as  I  pitied  the  poor,  abandoned,  hopeless  wretches  that  swarm  in 
the  roads  and  streets  of  England,  I  pity  far  more  the  English 
noble,  with  this  difficult  problem  before  him,  and  such  need  of  a 
speedy  solution.  Sad  is  his  life,  if  a  conscientious  man  ;  sadder 
still,  if  not.  Poverty  in  England  has  terrors  of  which  I  never 
dreamed  at  home.  I  felt  that  it  would  be  terrible  to  be  poor  there, 
but  far  more  so  to  be  the  possessor  of  that  for  which  so  many 
thousands  are  perishing.  And  the  middle  class,  too,  cannot  here 
enjoy  that  serenity  which  the  sages  have  described  as  naturally 
their  peculiar  blessing.  Too  close,  too  dark  throng  the  evils  they 
cannot  obviate,  the  sorrows  they  cannot  relieve.  To  a  man  of 
good  heart,  each  day  must  bring  purgatory  which  he  knows  not 
how  to  bear,  yet  to  which  he  fears  to  become  insensible. 

From  these  clouds  of  the  Present,  it  is  pleasant  to  turn  the 
thoughts  to  some  objects  which  have  cast  a  light  upon  the  Past, 
and  which,  by  the  virtue  of  their  very  nature,  prescribe  hope  for 
the  Future.  I  have  mentioned  with  satisfaction  seeing  some 
persons  who  illustrated  the  past  dynasty  in  the  progress  of 
thought  here :  Wordsworth,  Dr.  Chalmers,  De  Quincey,  Andrew 
Combe.  With  a  still  higher  pleasure,  because  to  one  of  my  own 
sex,  whom  I  have  honored  almost  above  any,  I  went  to  pay  my 
court  to  Joanna  Baillie.  I  found  on  her  brow,  not  indeed  a 
coronal  of  gold,  but  a  serenity  and  strength  undimmed  and  un 
broken  by  the  weight  of  more  than  fourscore  years,  or  by  the 
scanty  appreciation  which  her  thoughts  have  received. 

I  prize  Joanna  Baillie  and  Madame  Roland  as  the  best  speci 
mens  which  have  been  hitherto  offered  of  women  of  a^fioman 
strength  and  singleness  of  mind,  adorned  by  the  various  culture 


172  THINGS    AND    THOUGHTS    IN    EUROPE. 

and  capable  of  the  various  action  opened  to  them  by  the  pro 
gress  of  the  Christian  Idea.  They  are  not  sentimental ;  they 
do  not  sigh  and  write  of  withered  flowers  of  fond  affection,  and 
woman's  heart  born  to  be  misunderstood  by  the  object  or  objects 
of  her  fond,  inevitable  choice.  Love  (the  passion),  when  spoken  of 
at  all  by  them,  seems  a  thing  noble,  religious,  worthy  to  be  felt. 
They  do  not  write  of  it  always ;  they  did  not  think  of  it  always  ; 
they  saw  other  things  in  this  great,  rich,  suffering  world.  In 
superior  delicacy  of  touch,  they  show  the  woman,  but  the  hand  is 
firm ;  nor  was  all  their  speech  one  continued  utterance  of  mere 
personal  experience.  It  contained  things  which  are  good,  intel 
lectually,  universally. 

I  regret  that  the  writings  of  Joanna  Baillie  are  not  more 
known  in  the  United  States.  The  Plays  on  the  Passions  are 
faulty  in  their  plan,  —  all  attempts  at  comic,  even  at  truly  dra 
matic  effect,  fail ;  but  there  are  masterly  sketches  of  character, 
vigorous  expressions  of  wise  thought,  deep,  fervent  ejaculations 
of  an  aspiring  soul ! 

We  found  her  in  her  little  calm  retreat  at  Hampstead,  sur 
rounded  by  marks  of  love  and  reverence  from  distinguished  and 
excellent  friends.  Near  her  was  the  sister,  older  than  herself, 
yet  still  sprightly  and  full  of  active  kindness,  whose  character  and 
their  mutual  relation  she  has,  in  one  of  her  last  poems,  indicated 
with  such  a  happy  mixture  of  sagacity,  humor,  and  tender  pathos, 
and  with  so  absolute  a  truth  of  outline.  Although  no  autograph 
collector,  I  asked  for  theirs,  and  when  the  elder  gave  hers  as 
"sister  to  Joanna  Baillie,"  it  drew  a  tear  from  my  eye,  —  a 
good  tear,  a  genuine  pearl,  —  fit  homage  to  that  fairest  product 
of  the  soul  of  man,  humble,  disinterested  tenderness. 

Hampstead  has  still  a  good  deal  of  romantic  beauty.  I  was 
told  it  was  the  favorite  sketching-ground  of  London  artists,  till  the 
railroads  gave  them  easy  means  of  spending  a  few  hours  to  ad 
vantage  farther  off.  But,  indeed,  there  is  a  wonderful  deal  of 
natural  beauty  lying  in  untouched  sweetness  near  London.  Near 
one  of  our  cities  it  would  all  have  been  grubbed  up  the  first  thing. 
But  we,  too,  are  beginning  to  grow  wiser. 


THE  PEOPLE'S  JOURNAL.  173 

At  Richmond  I  went  to  see  another  lady  of  more  than  three 
score  years'  celebrity,  more  than  fourscore  in  age,  Miss  Berry, 
the  friend  of  Horace  Walpole,  and  for  her  charms  of  manner  and 
conversation  long  and  still  a  reigning  power.  She  has  still  the 
vivacity,  the  careless  nature,  or  refined  art,  that  made  her  please 
so  much  in  earlier  days,  —  still  is  girlish,  and  gracefully  so. 
Verily,  with  her  was  no  sign  of  labor  or  sorrow. 

From  the  older  turning  to  the  young,  I  must  speak  with  pleas 
ure  of  several  girls  I  know  in  London,  who  are  devoting  them 
selves  to  painting  as  a  profession.  They  have  really  wise  and 
worthy  views  of  the  artist's  avocation  ;  if  they  remain  true  to 
them,  they  will  enjoy  a  free,  serene  existence,  unprofaned  by  un 
due  care  or  sentimental  sorrow.  Among  these,  Margaret  Gillies 
has  attained  some  celebrity  ;  she  may  be  known  to  some  in  Amer 
ica  by  engravings  in  the  "  People's  Journal "  from  her  pictures ; 
but,  if  I  remember  right,  these  are  coarse  things,  and  give  no  just 
notion  of  her  pictures,  which  are  distinguished  for  elegance  and 
refinement ;  a  little  mannerized,  but  she  is  improving  in  that 
respect. 

The  "  People's  Journal  "  comes  nearer  being  a  fair  sign  of  the 
times  than  any  other  publication  of  England,  apparently,  if  we 
except  Punch.  As  for  the  Times,  on  which  you  all  use  your 
scissors  so  industriously,  it  is  managed  with  vast  ability,  no  doubt, 
but  the  blood  would  tingle  many  a  time  to  the  fingers'  ends  of  the 
body  politic,  before  that  solemn  organ  which  claims  to  represent 
the  heart  would  dare  to  beat  in  unison.  Still  it  would  require 
all  the  wise  management  of  the  Times,  or  wisdom  enough  to  do 
without  it,  and  a  wide  range  and  diversity  of  talent,  indeed,  almost 
sweeping  the  circle,  to  make  a  People's  Journal  for  England. 
The  present  is  only  a  bud  of  the  future  flower. 

Mary  and  William  Howitt  are  its  main  support.  I  saw  them 
several  times  at  their  cheerful  and  elegant  home.  In  Mary 
Howitt  I  found  the  same  engaging  traits  of  character  we  are  led 
to  expect  from  her  books  for  children.  Her  husband  is  full  of 
the  same  agreeable  information,  communicated  in  the  same  lively 
yet  precise  manner  we  find  in  his  books  ;  it  was  like  talking  with 
15* 


174.  THINGS    AND    THOUGHTS    IN    EUROPE. 

old  friends,  except  that  now  the  eloquence  of  the  eye  was  added. 
At  their  house  I  became  acquainted  with  Dr.  Southwood  Smith, 
the  well-known  philanthropist.  He  is  at  present  engaged  on  the 
construction  of  good  tenements  calculated  to  improve  the  condition 
of  the  working  people.  His  plans  look  promising,  and  should 
they  succeed,  you  shall  have  a  detailed  account  of  them.  On 
visiting  him,  we  saw  an  object  which  I  had  often  heard  celebrated, 
and  had  thought  would  be  revolting,  but  found,  on  the  contrary,  an 
agreeable  sight ;  this  is  the  skeleton  of  Jeremy  Bent-ham.  It  was 
at  Bentham's  request  that  the  skeleton,  dressed  in  the  same  dress 
he  habitually  wore,  stuffed  out  to  an  exact  resemblance  of  life, 
and  with  a  portrait  mark  in  wax,  the  best  I  ever  saw,  sits  there, 
as  assistant  to  Dr.  Smith  in  the  entertainment  of  his  guests  and 
companion  of  his  studies.  The  figure  leans  a  little  forward,  rest 
ing  the  hands  on  a  stout  stick  which  Bentham  always  carried,  and 
had  named  "  Dapple  "  ;  the  attitude  is  quite-  easy,  the  expression 
of  the  whole  quite  mild,  winning,  yet  highly  individual.  It  is  a 
pleasing  mark  of  that  unity  of  aim  and  tendency  to  be  expected 
throughout  the  life  of  such  a  mind,  that  Bentham,  while  quite  a 
young  man,  had  made  a  will,  in  which,  to  oppose  in  the  most  con 
vincing  manner  the  prejudice  against  dissection  of  the  human  sub 
ject,  he  had  given  his  body  after  death  to  be  used  in  service  of 
the  cause  of  science.  "  I  have  not  yet  been  able,"  said  the  will, 
"  to  do  much  service  to  my  fellow-men  by  my  life,  but  perhaps  I 
may  in  this  manner  by  my  death."  Many  years  after,  reading  a 
pamphlet  by  Dr.  Smith  on  the  same  subject,  he  was  much  pleased 
with  it,  became  his  friend,  and  bequeathed  his  body  to  his  care 
and  use,  with  directions  that  the  skeleton  should  finally  be  dis 
posed  of  in  the  way  I  have  described. 

The  countenance  of  Dr.  Smith  has  an  expression  of  expansive, 
sweet,  almost  childlike  goodness.  Miss  Gillies  has  made  a  charm 
ing  picture  of  him,  with  a  favorite  little  granddaughter  nestling 
in  his  arms. 

Another  marked  figure  that  I  encountered  on  this  great  show- 
board  was  Cooper,  the  author  of  "  The  Purgatory  of  Luicides,"  a 
very  remarkable  poem,  of  which,  had  there  been  leisure  before 


THOM.  175 

my  departure,  I  should  have  made  a  review,  and  given  copious 
extracts  in  the  Tribune.  Cooper  is  as  strong  a  man,  and  probably 
a  milder  one,  than  when  in  the  prison  where  that  poem  was  writ 
ten.  The  earnestness  in  seeking  freedom  and  happiness  for  all 
men,  which  drew  upon  him  that  penalty,  seems*  unabated ;  he  is  a 
very  significant  type  of  the  new  era,  and  also  an  agent  in  bringing 
it  near.  One  of  the  poets  of  the  people,  also,  I  saw,  —  the  sweet 
est  singer  of  them  all,  —  Thorn.  "  A  Chieftain  unknown  to  the 
Queen  "  is  again  exacting  a  cruel  tribute  from  him.  I  wish  much 
that  some  of  those  of  New  York  who  have  taken  an  interest  in 
him  would  provide  there  a  nook  in  which  he  might  find  refuge 
and  solace  for  the  evening  of  his  days,  to  sing  or  to  work  as  likes 
him  best,  and  where  he  could  bring  up  two  fine  boys  to  happier 
prospects  than  the  parent  land  will  afford  them.  Could  and  would 
America  but  take  from  other  lands  more  of  the  talent,  as  well  as 
the  bone  and  sinew,  she  would  be  rich. 

But  the  stroke  of  the  clock  warns  me  to  stop  now,  and  begin 
to-morrow  with  fresher  eye  and  hand  on  some  interesting  topics. 
My  sketches  are  slight ;  still  they  cannot  be  made  without  time, 
and  I  find  none  to  be  had  in  this  Europe  except  late  at  night.  I 
believe  it  is  what  all  the  inhabitants  use,  but  I  am  too  sleepy  a 
genius  to  carry  the  practice  far. 


LETTER    IX. 

Writing  at  Night.  —  London.  —  National  Gallery.  —  Murillo.  —  The  Flower  Girl. 

—  Nursery-Maids  and  Workingmen.  —  Hampton  Court.  —  Zoological  Gardens. 

—  King  of  Animals. — English  Piety.  —  Eagles.  —  Sir  John  Soane's  Museum. 

—  Kew   Gardens.  —  The   Great  Cactus. —  The  Reform  Club  House.  —  Men 
Cooks.  —  Orderly  Kitchen.  —  A  Gilpin  Excursion.  —  The  Bell  at  Edmonton. 

—  Omnibus.  —  Cheapside.  —  English  Slowness.  —  Freiligrath.  —  Arcadia.  — 
Italian  School.  —  Mazzini.  —Italy.  — Italian   Refugees.  —  Correggio.  —  Hope 
of  Italians.  —  Addresses.  —  Supper.  —  Carlyle,  his   Appearance,   Conversa 
tion,  &c. 

AGAIN  I  must  begin  to  write  late  in  the  evening.  I  am  told 
it  is  the  custom  of  the  literati  in  these  large  cities  to  work  in  the 
night.  It  is  easy  to  see  that  it  must  be  almost  impossible  to 
do  otherwise ;  yet  not  only  is  the  practice  very  bad  for  the 
health,  and  one  that  brings  on  premature  old  age,  but  I  cannot 
think  this  night-work  will  prove  as  firm  in  texture  and  as 
fair  of  hue  as  what  is  done  by  sunlight.  Give  me  a  lonely 
chamber,  a  window  from  which  through  the  foliage  you  can 
catch  glimpses  of  a  beautiful  prospect,  and  the  mind  finds  itself 
tuned  to  action. 

But  London,  London !  I  have  yet  some  brief  notes  to  make 
on  London.  We  had  scarcely  any  sunlight  by  which  to  see  pic 
tures,  and  I  postponed  all  visits  to  private  collections,  except  one, 
in  the  hope  of  being  in  England  next  time  in  the  long  summer 
days.  In  the  National  Gallery  I  saw  little  except  the  Murillos  ; 
they  were  so  beautiful,  that  with  me,  who  had  no  true  conception 
of  his  kind  of  genius  before,  they  took  away  the  desire  to  look 
into  anything  else  at  the  same  time.  They  did  not  affect  me 
much  either,  except  with  a  sense  of  content  in  this  genius,  so  rich 
and  full  and  strong.  It  was  a  cup  of  sunny  wine  that  refreshed 
but  brought  no  intoxicating  visions.  There  is  something  very 


ZOOLOGICAL    GARDENS.  177 

noble  in  the  genius  of  Spain,  there  is  such  an  intensity  and  single 
ness  ;  it  seems  to  me  it  has  not  half  shown  itself,  and  must  have 
an  important  part  to  play  yet  in  the  drama  of  this  planet. 

At  the  Dulwich  Gallery  I  saw  the  Flower  Girl  of  Murillo,  an 
enchanting  picture,  the  memory  of  which  must  always 

"  Cast  a  light  upon  the  day, 

A  light  that  will  not  pass  away, 

A  sweet  forewarning." 

Who  can  despair  when  he  thinks  of  a  form  like  that,  so  full  of  life 
and  bliss  !  Nature,  that  made  such  human  forms  to  match  the 
butterfly  and  the  bee  on  June  mornings  when  the  lime-trees  are 
in  blossom,  has  surely  enough  of  happiness  in  store  to  satisfy  us 
all,  somewhere,  some  time. 

It  was  pleasant,  indeed,  to  see  the  treasures  of  those  galleries, 
of  the  British  Museum,  and  of  so  charming  a  place  as  Hampton 
Court,  open  to  everybody.  In  the  National  Gallery  one  finds  a 
throng  of  nursery-maids,  and  men  just  come  from  their  work ; 
true,  they  make  a  great  deal  of  noise  thronging  to  and  fro  on  the 
uncarpeted  floors  in  their  thick  boots,  and  noise  from  which,  when 
penetrated  by  the  atmosphere  of  Art,  men  in  the  thickest  boots 
would  know  how  to  refrain ;  still  I  felt  that  the  sight  of  such  ob 
jects  must  be  gradually  doing  them  a  great  deal  of  good.  The 
British  Museum  would,  in  itself,  be  an  education  for  a  man  who 
should  go  there  once  a  week,  and  think  and  read  at  his  leisure 
moments  about  what  he  saw. 

Hampton  Court  I  saw  in  the  gloom  and  rain,  and  my  chief 
recollections  are  of  the  magnificent  yew-trees  beneath  whose  shel 
ter  —  the  work  of  ages  —  I  took  refuge  from  the  pelting  shower. 
The  expectations  cherished  from  childhood  about  the  Cartoons 
were  all  baffled ;  there  was  no  light  by  which  they  could  be  seen. 
But  I  must  hope  to  visit  Hampton  Court  again  in  the  time  of 
roses. 

The  Zoological  Gardens  are  another  pleasure  of  the  million, 
since,  although  something  is  paid  there,  it  is  so  little  that  almost 
all  can  afford  it.  To  me,  it  is  a  vast  pleasure  to  see  animals 
where  they  can  show  out  their  habits  or  instincts,  and  to  see 


178  THINGS    AND    THOUGHTS    IN    EUROPE. 

them  assembled  from  all  climates  and  countries,  amid  verdure  and 
with  room  enough,  as  they  are  here,  is  a  true  poem.  They  have 
a  fine  lion,  the  first  I  ever  saw  that  realized  the  idea  we  have  of 
the  king  of  the  animal  world  ;  but  the  groan  and  roar  of  this  one 
were  equally  royal.  The  eagles  were  fine,  but  rather  disgraced 
themselves.  It  is  a  trait  of  English  piety,  which  would,  no  doubt, 
find  its  defenders  among  ourselves,  not  to  feed  the  animals  on 
Sunday,  that  their  keepers  may  have  rest ;  at  least  this  was  the 
explanation  given  us  by  one  of  these  men  of  the  state  of  ravenous 
hunger  in  which  we  found  them  on  the  Monday.  I  half  hope  he 
was  jesting  with  us.  Certain  it  is  that  the  eagles  were  wild  with 
famine,  and  even  the  grandest  of  them,  who  had  eyed  us  at  first 
as  if  we  were  not  fit  to  live  in  the  same  zone  with  him,  when  the 
meat  came  round,  after  a  short  struggle  to  maintain  his  dignity, 
joined  in  wild  shriek  and  scramble  with  the  rest. 

Sir  John  Soane's  Museum  I  visited,  containing  the  sarcophagus 
described  by  Dr.  Waagen,  Hogarth's  pictures,  a  fine  Canaletto,  and 
a  manuscript  of  Tasso.  It  fills  the  house  once  the  residence  of 
his  body,  still  of  his  mind.  It  is  not  a  mind  with  which  I  have 
sympathy  ;  I  found  there  no  law  of  harmony,  and  it  annoyed  rue 
to  see  things  all  jumbled  together  as  if  in  an  old  curiosity-shop. 
Nevertheless  it  was  a  generous  bequest,  and  much  may  perhaps 
be  found  there  of  value  to  him  who  takes  time  to  seek. 

The  Gardens  at  Kew  delighted  me,  thereabouts  all  was  so  green, 
and  still  one  could  indulge  at  leisure  in  the  humorous  and  fantas 
tic  associations  that  cluster  around  the  name  of  Kew,  like  the 
curls  of  a  "  big  wig "  round  the  serene  and  sleepy  face  of  its 
wearer.  Here  are  fourteen  green-houses  :  in  one  you  find  all 
the  palms  ;  in  another,  the  productions  of  the  regions  of  snow  ; 
in  another,  those  squibs  and  humorsome  utterances  of  Nature,  the 
cactuses,  —  ay  !  there  I  saw  the  great-grandfather  of  all  the  cac 
tuses,  a  hoary,  solemn  plant,  declared  to  be  a  thousand  years  old, 
disdaining  to  say  if  it  is  not  really  much  older ;  in  yet  another, 
the  most  exquisitely  minute  plants,  delicate  as  the  tracery  of  frost 
work,  too  delicate  for  the  bowers  of  fairies,  such  at  least  as  visit 
the  gross  brains  of  earthly  poets. 


A    GILPIN    EXCURSION.  179 

The  Reform  Club  was  the  only  one  of  those  splendid  establish 
ments  that  I  visited.  Certainly  the  force  of  comfort  can  no 
farther  go,  nor  can  anything  be  better  contrived  to  make  dress 
ing,  eating,  news-getting,  and  even  sleeping  (for  there  are  bed 
rooms  as  well  as  dressing-rooms  for  those  who  will),  as  comfort 
able  as  can  be  imagined.  Yet  to  me  this  palace  of  so  many 
"  single  gentlemen  rolled  into  one  "  seemed  stupidly  comfortable, 
in  the  absence  of  that  elegant  arrangement  and  vivacious  atmos 
phere  which  only  women  can  inspire.  In  the  kitchen,  indeed,  I 
met  them,  and  on  that  account  it  seemed  the  pleasantest  part  of 
the  building,  —  though  even  there  they  are  but  the  servants 
of  servants.  There  reigned  supreme  a  genius  in  his  way,  who 
has  published  a  work  on  Cookery,  and  around  him  his  pupils,  — 
young  men  who  pay  a  handsome  yearly  fee  for  novitiate  under 
his  instruction.  I  was  not  sorry,  however,  to  see  men  predomi 
nant  in  the  cooking  department,  as  I  hope  to  see  that  and  wash 
ing  transferred  to  their  care  in  the  progress  of  things,  since  they 
are  "  the  strt  nger  sex." 

The  arrangements  of  this  kitchen  were  very  fine,  combining 
great  convenience  with  neatness,  and  even  elegance.  Fourier 
himself  might  have  taken  pleasure  in  them.  Thence  we  passed 
into  the  private  apartments  of  the  artist,  and  found  them  full  of 
pictures  by  his  wife,  an  artist  in  another  walk.  One  or  two  of 
them  had  been  engraved.  She  was  an  Englishwoman. 

A  whimsical  little  excursion  we  made  on  occasion  of  the  anniver 
sary  of  the  wedding-day  of  two  of  my  friends.  They  had  often 
enjoyed  reading  the  account  of  John  Gilpin's  in  America,  and 
now  thought  that,  as  they  were  in  England  and  near  enough, 
they  would  celebrate  theirs  also  at  "  the  Bell  at  Edmonton."  I 
accompanied  them  with  "  a  little  foot-page,"  to  eke  out  the  train, 
pretty  and  graceful  and  playful  enough  for  the  train  of  a  princess. 
But  our  excursion  turned  out  somewhat  of  a  failure,  in  an  oppo 
site  way  to  Gilpin's.  Whereas  he  went  too  fast,  we  went  too 
slow.  First  we  took  coach  and  went  through  Cheapside  to  take 
omnibus  at  (strange  misnomer!)  the  Flower-Pot.  But  Gilpin 
could  never  have  had  his  race  through  Cheapside  as  it  is  in  its 


180  THINGS    AND    THOUGHTS    IN    EUROPE. 

present  crowded  state ;  we  were  obliged  to  proceed  at  a  funeral 
pace.  We  missed  the  omnibus,  and  when  we  took  the  next  one 
it  went  with  the  slowness  of  a  "  family  horse  "  in  the  old  chaise 
of  a  New  England  deacon,  and,  after  all,  only  took  us  half-way. 
At  the  half-way  house  a  carriage  was  to  be  sought.  The  lady 
who  let  it,  and  all  her  grooms,  were  to  be  allowed  time  to  recover 
from  their  consternation  at  so  unusual  a  move  as  strangers  taking 
a  carriage  to  dine  at  the  little  inn  at  Edmonton,  now  a  mere  ale 
house,  before  we  could  be  allowed  to  proceed.  The  English 
stand  lost  in  amaze  at  "  Yankee  notions,"  with  their  quick  come 
and  go,  and  it  is  impossible  to  make  them  "  go  ahead  "  in  the  zig 
zag  chain-lightning  path,  unless  you  push  them.  A  rather  old 
part  of  the  plan  had  been  a  pilgrimage  to  the  grave  of  Lamb, 
with  a  collateral  view  to  the  rural  beauties  of  Edmonton,  but 
night  had  fallen  on  all  such  hopes  two  hours  at  least  before  we 
reached  the  Bell.  There,  indeed,  we  found  them  somewhat  more 
alert  to  comprehend  our  wishes  ;  they  laughed  when  we  spoke 
of  Gilpin,  showed  us  a  print  of  the  race  and  the  window  where 
Mrs.  Gilpin  must  have  stood,  —  balcony,  alas!  there  was  none; 
allowed  us  to  make  our  own  fire,  and  provided  us  a  wedding 
dinner  of  tough  meat  and  stale  bread.  Nevertheless  we  danced, 
dined,  paid  (I  believe),  and  celebrated  the  wedding  quite  to  our 
satisfaction,  though  in  the  space  of  half  an  hour,  as  we  knew 
friends  were  even  at  that  moment  expecting  us  to  tea  at  some 
miles'  distance.  But  it  is  always  pleasant  in  this  world  of  routine 
to  act  out  a  freak.  "  Such  a  one,"  said  an  English  gentleman, 
"one  of  us  would  rarely  have  dreamed  of,  much  less  acted." 
"  Why,  was  it  not  pleasant  ? "  "  Oh,  very !  but  so  out  of  the 
way ! " 

Returning,  we  passed  the  house  where  Freiligrath  finds  a 
temporary  home,  earning  the  bread  of  himself  and  his  family  in 
a  commercial  house.  England  houses  the  exile,  but  not  with 
out  house-tax,  window-tax,  and  head-tax.  Where  is  the  Arcadia 
that  dares  invite  all  genius  to  her  arms,  and  change  her  golden 
wheat  for  their  green  laurels  and  immortal  flowers  ?  Arcadia  ?  — 
would  the  name  were  America  ! 


MAZZINI.  181 

And  now  returns  naturally  to  my  mind  one  of  the  most  in 
teresting  things  I  have  seen  here  OT  elsewhere,  —  the  school  for 
poor  Italian  boys,  sustained  and  taught  by  a  few  of  their  exiled 
compatriots,  and  especially  by  the  mind  and  efforts  of  Mazzini. 
The  name  of  Joseph  Mazzini  is  well  known  to  those  among  us 
who  take  an  interest  in  the  cause  of  human  freedom,  who,  not 
content  with  the  peace  and  ease  bought  for  themselves  by  the 
devotion  and  sacrifices  of  their  fathers,  look  with  anxious  interest 
on  the  suffering  nations  who  are  preparing  for  a  similar  struggle. 
Those  who  are  not,  like  the  brutes  that  perish,  content  with  the 
enjoyment  of  mere  national  advantages,  indifferent  to  the  idea 
they  represent,  cannot  forget  that  the  human  family  is  one, 

"  And  beats  with  one  great  heart." 

They  know  that  there  can  be  no  genuine  happiness,  no  salvation 
for  any,  unless  the  same  can  be  secured  for  all. 

To  this  universal  interest  in  all  nations  and  places  where  man, 
understanding  his  inheritance,  strives  to  throw  off  an  arbitrary 
rule  and  establish  a  state  of  things  where  he  shall  be  governed  as 
becomes  a  man,  by  his  own  conscience  and  intelligence,  —  where 
he  may  speak  the  truth  as  it  rises  in  his  mind,  and  indulge  his 
natural  emotions  in  purity,  —  is  added  an  especial  interest  in  Italy, 
the  mother  of  our  language  and  our  laws,  our  greatest  benefac 
tress  in  the  gifts  of  genius,  the  garden  of  the  world,  in  which  our 
best  thoughts  have  delighted  to  expatiate,  but  over  whose  bowers 
now  hangs  a  perpetual  veil  of  sadness,  and  whose  noblest  plants 
are  doomed  to  removal,  —  for,  if  they  cannot  bear  their  ripe 
and  perfect  fruit  in  another  climate,  they  are  not  permitted  to  lift 
their  heads  to  heaven  in  their  own. 

Some  of  these  generous  refugees  our  country  has  received 
kindly,  if  not  with  a  fervent  kindness  ;  and  the  word  Correggio 
is  still  in  my  ears  as  I  heard  it  spoken  in  New  York  by  one 
whose  heart  long  oppression  could  not  paralyze.  Speranza  some 
of  the  Italian  youth  now  inscribe  on  their  banners,  encouraged  by 
some  traits  of  apparent  promise-  in  the  new  Pope.  However, 
their  only  true  hope  is  in  themselves,  in  their  own  courage,  and 
in-  that  wisdom  which  may  only  be  learned  through  many  dis- 
1G 


182  THINGS    AND    THOUGHTS    IN   EUROPE. 

appointments  as  to  how  to  employ  it  so  that  it  may  destroy 
tyranny,  not  themselves. 

Mazzini,  one  of  these  noble  refugees,  is  not  only  one  of  the 
heroic,  the  courageous,  and  the  faithful,  —  Italy  boasts  many  such, 
—  but  he  is  also  one  of  the  wise  ;  —  one  of  those  who,  disappointed 
in  the  outward  results  of  their  undertakings,  can  yet  "  bate  no 
jot  of  heart  and  hope,"  but  must  "  steer  right  onward  "  ;  for  it  was 
no  superficial  enthusiasm,  no  impatient  energies,  that  impelled 
him,  but  an  understanding  of  what  must  be  the  designs  of  Heaven 
with  regard  to  man,  since  God  is  Love,  is  Justice.  He  is  one 
who  can  live  fervently,  but  steadily,  gently,  every  day,  every  hour, 
as  well  as  on  great  occasions,  cheered  by  the  light  of  hope  ;  for, 
with  Schiller,  he  is  sure  that  "  those  who  live  for  their  faith  shall 
behold  it  living."  He  is  one  of  those  same  beings  who,  measur 
ing  all  things  by  the  ideal  standard,  have  yet  no  time  to  mourn 
over  failure  or  imperfection;  there  is  too  much  to  be  done  to 
obviate  it. 

Thus  Mazzini,  excluded  from  publication  in  his  native  lan 
guage,  has  acquired  the  mastery  both  of  French  and  English,  and 
through  his  expressions  in  either  shine  the  thoughts  which  ani 
mated  his  earlier  effort  with  mild  and  steady  radiance.  The 
misfortunes  of  his  country  have  only  widened  the  sphere  of  his 
instructions,  and  made  him  an  exponent  of  the  better  era  to 
Europe  at  large.  Those  who  wish  to  form  an  idea  of  his  mind 
could  not  do  better  than  to  read  his  sketches  of  the  Italian  Mar 
tyrs  in  the  "  People's  Journal."  They  will  find  there,  on  one  of 
the  most  difficult  occasions,  an  ardent  friend  speaking  of  his 
martyred  friends  with  the  purity  of  impulse,  warmth  of  sympathy, 
largeness  and  steadiness  of  view,  and  fineness  of  discrimination 
which  must  belong  to  a  legislator  for  a  CHRISTIAN  commonwealth. 

But  though  I  have  read  these  expressions  with  great  delight, 
this  school  was  one  to  me  still  more  forcible  of  the  same  ideas. 
Here  these  poor  boys,  picked  up  from  the  streets,  are  redeemed 
from  bondage  and  gross  ignorance  by  the  most  patient  and  con 
stant  devotion  of  time  and  effort.  What  love  and  sincerity  this 
demands  from  minds  capable  of  great  thoughts,  large  plans,  and 


CARLYLE.  183 

rapid  progress,  only  their  peers  can  comprehend,  yet  exceeding 
great  shall  be  the  reward  ;  and  as  among  the  fishermen  and  poor 
people  of  Judasa  were  picked  up  those  who  have  become  to 
modern  Europe  a  leaven  that  leavens  the  whole  mass,  so  may 
these  poor  Italian  boys  yet  become  more  efficacious  as  mission 
aries  to  their  people  than  would  an  Orphic  poet  at  this  period. 
These  youths  have  very  commonly  good  faces,  and  eyes  from 
which  that  Italian  fire  that  has  done  so  much  to  warm  the  world 
glows  out.  We  saw  the  distribution  of  prizes  to  the  school,  heard 
addresses  from  Mazzini,  Pistracci,  Mariotti  (once  a  resident  in  our 
country),  and  an  English  gentleman  who  takes  a  great  interest  in 
the  work,  and  then  adjourned  to  an  adjacent  room,  where  a  sup 
per  was  provided  for  the  boys  and  other  guests,  among  whom 
we  saw  some  of  the  exiled  Poles.  The  whole  evening  gave  a 
true  and  deep  pleasure,  though  tinged  with  sadness.  We  saw  a 
planting  of  the  kingdom  of  Heaven,  though  now  no  larger  than 
a  grain  of  mustard-seed,  and  though  perhaps  none  of  those  who 
watch  the  spot  may  live  to  see  the  birds  singing  in  its  branches. 

I  have  not  yet  spoken  of  one  of  our  benefactors,  Mr.  Carlyle, 
whom  I  saw  several  times.  I  approached  him  with  more  reverence 
after  a  little  experience  of  England  and  Scotland  had  taught  me 
to  appreciate  the  strength  and  height  of  that  wall  of  shams  and 
conventions  which  he  more  than  any  man,  or  thousand  men,  — 
indeed,  he  almost  alone,  —  has  begun  to  throw  down.  Wherever 
there  was  fresh  thought,  generous  hope,  the  thought  of  Carlyle 
has  begun  the  work.  He  has  torn  off  the  veils  from  hideous 
facts  ;  he  has  burnt  away  foolish  illusions  ;  he  has  awakened  thou 
sands  to  know  what  it  is  to  be  a  man,  —  that  we  must  live,  and 
not  merely  pretend  to  others  that  we  live.  He  has  touched  the 
rocks  and  they  have  given  forth  musical  answer ;  little  more  was 
wanting  to  begin  to  construct  the  city. 

But  that  little  was  wanting,  and  the  work  of  construction  is 
left  to  those  that  come  after  him:  nay,  all  attempts  of  the  kind  he 
is  the  readiest  to  deride,  fearing  new  shams  worse  than  the  old, 
unable  to  trust  the  general  action  of  a  thought,  and  finding  no 
heroic  man,  no  natural  king,  to  represent  it  and  challenge  his  con- 


1S4  THINGS    AND    THOUGHTS    IN    EUROPE. 

Accustomed  to  the  infinite  wit  and  exuberant  richness  of  his 
writings,  his  talk  is  still  an  amazement  and  a  splendor  scarcely  to 
be  faced  with  steady  eyes.  He  does  not  converse,  —  only  ha 
rangues.  It  is  the  usual  misfortune  of  such  marked  men  (happily 
not  one  invariable  or  inevitable)  that  they  cannot  allow  other 
minds  room  to  breathe  and  show  themselves  in  their  atmosphere, 
and  thus  miss  the  refreshment  and  instruction  which  the  greatest 
never  cease  to  need  from  the  experience  of  the  humblest.  Car- 
lyle  allows  no  one  a  chance,  but  bears  down  all  opposition,  not 
only  by  his  wit  and  onset  of  words,  resistless  in  their  sharpness  as 
so  many  bayonets,  but  by  actual  physical  superiority,  raising  his 
voice  and  rushing  on  his  opponent  with  a  torrent  of  sound.  This 
is  not  the  least  from  unwillingness  to  allow  freedom  to  others  ;  on 
the  contrary,  no  man  would  more  enjoy  a  manly  resistance  to  his 
thought;  but  it  is  the  impulse  of  a  mind  accustomed  to  follow  out 
its  own  impulse  as  the  hawk  its  prey,  and  which  knows  not  how 
to  stop  in  the  chase.  Carlyle,  indeed,  is  arrogant  and  overbear 
ing,  but  in  his  arrogance  there  is  no  littleness  or  self-love :  it  is 
the  heroic  arrogance  of  some  old  Scandinavian  conqueror,  —  it  is 
his  nature  and  the  untamable  impulse  that  has  given  him  power 
to  crush  the  dragons.  You  do  not  love  him,  perhaps,  nor  revere, 
and  perhaps,  also,  he  would  only  laugh  at  you  if  you  did ;  but  you 
like  him  heartily,  and  like  to  see  him  the  powerful  smith,  the 
Siegfried,  melting  all  the  old  iron  in  his  furnace  till  it  glows  to  a 
sunset  red,  and  burns  you  if  you  senselessly  go  too  near.  He 
seemed  to  me  quite  isolated,  lonely  as  the  desert ;  yet  never  was 
man  more  fitted  to  prize  a  man,  could  he  find  one  to  match  his 
mood.  He  finds  such,  but  only  in  the  past.  He  sings  rather  than 
talks.  He  pours  upon  you  a  kind  of  satirical,  heroical,  critical 
poem,  with  regular  cadences,  and  generally  catching  up  near  the 
beginning  some  singular  epithet,  which  serves  as  a  refrain  when 
his  song  is  full,  or  with  which  as  with  a  knitting-needle  he  catches 
up  the  stitches  if  he  has  chanced  now  and  then  to  let  fall  a  row. 
For  the  higher  kinds  of  poetry  he  has  no  sense,  and  Ms  talk  on 
that  subject  is  delightfully  and  gorgeously  absurd  ;  he  sometimes 
stops  a  minute  to  laugh  at  it  himself,  then  begins  anew  with  fresh 


CARLYLE.  185 

vigor ;  for  all  the  spirits  he  is  driving  before  him  seem  to  him 
as  Fata  Morganas,  ugly  masks,  in  fact,  if  he  can  but  make  them 
turn  about,  but  he  laughs  that  they  seem  to  others  such  dainty 
Ariels.  He  puts  out  his  chin  sometimes  till  it  looks  like  the  beak 
of  a  bird,  and  his  eyes  flash  bright  instinctive  meanings  like  Jove's 
bird ;  yet  he  is  not  calm  and  grand  enough  for  the  eagle  :  he  is 
more  like  the  falcon,  arid  yet  not  of  gentle  blood  enough  for  that 
either.  He  is  not  exactly  like  anything  but  himself,  and  there 
fore  you  cannot  see  him  without  the  most  hearty  refreshment  and 
good-will,  for  he  is  original,  rich,  and  strong  enough  to  afford  a 
thousand  faults  ;  one  expects  some  wild  land  in  a  rich  kingdom. 
His  talk,  like  his  books,  is  full  of  pictures,  his  critical  strokes  mas 
terly  ;  allow  for  his  point  of  view,  and  his  survey  is  admirable. 
He  is  a  large  subject ;  I  cannot  speak  more  or  wiselier  of  him 
now,  nor  needs  it ;  his  works  are  true,  to  blame  and  praise  him, 
the  Siegfried  of  England,  great  and  powerful,  if  not  quite  invul 
nerable,  and  of  a  might  rather  to  destroy  evil  than  legislate  for 
good.  At  all  events,  he  seems  to  be  what  Destiny  intended,  and 
represents  fully  a  certain  side  ;  so  we  make  no  remonstrance  as 
to  his  being  and  proceeding  for  himself,  though  we  sometimes 
must  for  us. 

I  had  meant  some  remarks  on  some  fine  pictures,  and  the  little 
I  saw  of  the  theatre  in  England  ;  but  these  topics  must  wait  till 
my  next,  where  they  may  connect  themselves  naturally  enough 
with  what  I  have  to  say  of  Paris. 


16 


LETTER    X. 

More  of  London.  —  The  Model  Prison  at  Pentonville.  —  Bathing  Establishment 
for  the  Poor.  —  Also  one  for  washing  Clothes.  —  The  Creches  of  Paris,  for 
Poor  People's  Children.  —  Old  Drury  in  London. —  Sadler's  Wells.  —  English 
and  French  Acting  compared.  —  Mademoiselle  Rachel.  —  French  Tragedy. 

—  Rose    Cheny.  —  Dumas.  —  Guizot.  —  The   Presentation  at   Court  of  the 
young  Duchess.  —  Ball  at  the   Tuileries.  —  American  and  French  Women. 

—  Leverrier.  —  The  Sorbonne.  —  Arago.  —  Discussions   on    Suicide  and  the 
Crusades.  —  Re"musat.  —  The  Academy.  —  La  Mennais.  —  Be"ranger. —  Reflec 
tions. 

Paris. 

WHEN  I  wrote  last  I  could  not  finish  with  London,  and  there 
remain  yet  two  or  three  things  I  wish  to  speak  of  before  passing 
to  my  impressions  of  this  wonder-full  Paris. 

I  visited  the  model  prison  at  Pentonville  ;  but  though  in  some 
respects  an  improvement  upon  others  I  have  seen,  —  though  there 
was  the  appearance  of  great  neatness  and  order  in  the  arrange 
ments  of  life,  kindness  and  good  judgment  in  the  discipline  of 
the  prisoners,  —  yet  there  was  also  an  air  of  bleak  forlornness 
about  the  place,  and  it  fell  far  short  of  what  my  mind  demands  of 
such  abodes  considered  as  redemption  schools.  But  as  the  sub 
ject  of  prisons  is  now  engaging  the  attention  of  many  of  the  wisest 
and  best,  and  the  tendency  is  in  what  seems  to  me  the  true  direc 
tion,  I  need  not  trouble  myself  to  make  crude  and  hasty  sugges 
tions  ;  it  is  a  subject  to  which  persons  who  would  be  of  use  should 
give  the  earnest  devotion  of  calm  and  leisurely  thought. 

The  same  day  I  went  to  see  an  establishment  which  gave  me 
unmixed  pleasure  ;  it  is  a  bathing  establishment  put  at  a  very 
low  rate  to  enable  the  poor  to  avoid  one  of  the  worst  miseries 
of  their  lot,  and  which  yet  promises  to  pay.  Joined  with  this  is 


WASHING    ESTABLISHMENT.  187 

an  establishment  for  washing  clothes,  where  the  poor  can  go  and 
hire,  for  almost  nothing,  good  tubs,  water  ready  heated,  the  use 
of  an  apparatus  for  rinsing,  drying,  and  ironing,  all  so  admirably 
arranged  that  a  poor  woman  can  in  three  hours  get  through  an 
amount  of  washing  and  ironing  that  would,  under  ordinary  circum 
stances,  occupy  three  or  four  days.  Especially  the  drying  clos 
ets  I  contemplated  with  great  satisfaction,  and  hope  to  see  in  our 
own  country  the  same  arrangements  throughout  the  cities,  and 
even  in  the  towns  and  villages.  Hanging  out  the  clothes  is  a 
great  exposure  for  women,  even  when  they  have  a  good  place  for 
it ;  but  when,  as  is  so  common  in  cities,  they  must  dry  them  in  the 
house,  how  much  they  suffer  !  In  New  York,  I  know,  those  poor 
women  who  take  in  washing  endure  a  great  deal  of  trouble  and 
toil  from  this  cause ;  I  have  suffered  myself  from  being  obliged  to 
send  back  what  had  cost  them  so  much  toil,  because  it  had  been, 
perhaps  inevitably,  soiled  in  the  drying  or  ironing,  or  filled  with 
the  smell  of  their  miscellaneous  cooking.  In  London  it  is  much 
worse.  An  eminent  physician  told  me  he  knew  of  two  children 
whom  he  considered  to  have  died  because  their  mother,  having 
but  one  room  to  live  in,  was  obliged  to  wash  and  dry  clothes  close 
to  their  bed  when  they  were  ill.  The  poor  people  in  London  natu 
rally  do  without  washing  all  they  can,  and  beneath  that  perpetual 
fall  of  soot  the  result  may  be  guessed.  All  but  the  very  poor  in 
England  put  out  their  washing,  and  this  custom  ought  to  be  univer 
sal  in  civilized  countries,  as  it  can  be  done  much  better  and  quicker 
by  a  few  regular  laundresses  than  by  many  families,  and  "  the 
washing  day  "  is  so  malignant  a  foe  to  the  peace  and  joy  of  house 
holds  that  it  ought  to  be  effaced  from  the  calendar.  But  as  long 
as  we  are  so  miserable  as  to  have  any  very  poor  people  in  this 
world,  they  cannot  put  out  their  washing,  because  they  cannot 
earn  enough  money  to  pay  for  it,  and,  preliminary  to  some 
thing  better,  washing  establishments  like  this  of  London  are 
desirable. 

One  arrangement  that  they  have  here  in  Paris  will  be  a  good 
one,  even  when  we  cease  to  have  any  very  poor  people,  and, 
please  Heaven,  also  to  have  any  very  rich.  These  are  the 


188  THINGS    AND    THOUGHTS    IN    EUROPE. 

Creches,  —  houses  where  poor  women  leave  their  children  to  be 
nursed  during  the  day  while  they  are  at  work. 

I  must  mention  that  the  superintendent  of  the  washing  estab 
lishment  observed,  with  a  legitimate  triumph,  that  it  had  been 
built  without  giving  a  single  dinner  or  printing  a  single  puff,  — 
an  extraordinary  thing,  indeed,  for  England  ! 

To  turn  to  something  a  little  gayer,  —  the  embroidery  on  this 
tattered  coat  of  civilized  life,  —  I  went  into  only  two  theatres  ;  one 
the  Old  Drury,  once  the  scene  of  great  glories,  now  of  execrable 
music  and  more  execrable  acting.  If  anything  can  be  invented 
more  excruciating  than  an  English  opera,  such  as  was  the  fashion 
at  the  time  I  was  in  London,  I  am  sure  no  sin  of  mine  deserves 
the  punishment  of  bearing  it. 

At  the  Sadler's  Wells  theatre  I  saw  a  play  which  I  had  much 
admired  in  reading  it,  but  found  still  better  in  actual  representa 
tion  ;  indeed,  it  seems  to  me  there  can  be  no  better  acting  play  : 
this  is  "The  Patrician's  Daughter,"  by  J.  W.  Marston.  The 
movement  is  rapid,  yet  clear  and  free ;  the  dialogue  natural,  dig 
nified,  and  flowing  ;  the  characters  marked  with  few,  but  distinct 
strokes.  "Where  the  tone  of  discourse  rises  with  manly  sentiment 
or  passion,  the  audience  applauded  with  bursts  of  generous  feeling 
that  gave  me  great  pleasure,  for  this  play  is  one  that,  in  its  scope 
and  meaning,  marks  the  new  era  in  England  ;  it  is  full  of  an  ex 
perience  which  is  inevitable  to  a  man  of  talent  there,  and  is  har 
binger  of  the  day  when  the  noblest  commoner  shall  be  the  only 
noble  possible  in  England. 

But  how  different  all  this  acting  to  what  I  find  in  France  ! 
Here  the  theatre  is  living;  you  see  something  really  good,  and 
good  throughout.  Not  one  touch  of  that  stage  strut  and  vulgar 
bombast  of  tone,  which  the  English  actor  fancies  indispensable  to 
scenic  illusion,  is  tolerated  here.  For  the  first  time  in  my  life  I 
saw  something  represented  in  a  style  uniformly  good,  and  should 
have  found  sufficient  proof,  if  I  had  needed  any,  that  all  men  will 
prefer  what  is  good  to  what  is  bad,  if  only  a  fair  opportunity  for 
choice  be  allowed.  When  I  came  here,  my  first  thought  was  to 
go  and  see  Mademoiselle  Rachel.  I  was  sure  that  in  her  I  should 


RACHEL.  189 

find  a  true  genius,  absolutely  the  diamond,  and  so  it  proved.  I 
went  to  see  her  seven  or  eight  times,  always  in  parts  that  re 
quired  great  force  of  soul  and  purity  of  taste  even  to  conceive 
them,  and  only  once  had  reason  to  find  fault  with  her.  On  one 
single  occasion  I  saw  her  violate  the  harmony  of  the  character  to 
produce  effect  at  a  particular  moment ;  but  almost  invariably  I 
found  her  a  true  artist,  worthy  Greece,  and  worthy  at  many  mo 
ments  to  have  her  conceptions  immortalized  in  marble. 

Her  range  even  in  high  tragedy  is  limited.  She  can  only  ex 
press  the  darker  passions,  and  grief  in  its  most  desolate  aspects. 
Nature  has  not  gifted  her  with  those  softer  and  more  flowery  at 
tributes  that  lend  to  pathos  its  utmost  tenderness.  She  does  not 
melt  to  tears,  or  calm  or  elevate  the  heart  by  the  presence  of  that 
tragic  beauty  that  needs  all  the  assaults  of  Fate  to  make  it  show 
its  immortal  sweetness.  Her  noblest  aspect  is  when  sometimes 
she  expresses  truth  in  some  severe  shape,  and  rises,  simple  and 
austere,  above  the  mixed  elements  around  her.  On  the  dark  side, 
she  is  very  great  in  hatred  and  revenge.  I  admired  her  more  in 
Phedre  than  in  any  other  part  in  which  I  saw  her.  The  guilty 
love  inspired  by  the  hatred  of  a  goddess  was  expressed  in  all  its 
symptoms  with  a  force  and  terrible  naturalness  that  almost  suffo 
cated  the  beholder.  After  she  had  taken  the  poison,  the  exhaus 
tion  and  paralysis  of  the  system,  the  sad,  cold,  calm  submission  to 
Fate,  were  still  more  grand. 

I  had  heard  so  much  about  the  power  of  her  eye  in  one  fixed 
look,  and  the  expression  she  could  concentrate  in  a  single  word, 
that  the  utmost  results  could  only  satisfy  my  expectations.  It  is, 
indeed,  something  magnificent  to  see  the  dark  cloud  give  out  such 
sparks,  each  one  fit  to  deal  a  separate  death ;  but  it  was  not  that  I 
admired  most  in  her :  it  was  the  grandeur,  truth,  and  depth  of 
her  conception  of  each  part,  and  the  sustained  purity  with  which 
she  represented  it. 

For  the  rest,  I  shall  write  somewhere  a  detailed  critique  upon 
the  parts  in  which  I  saw  her.  It  is  she  who  has  made  me  ac 
quainted  with  the  true  way  of  viewing  French  tragedy.  I  had 
no  idea  of  its  powers  and  symmetry  till  now,  and  have  received 
from  the  revelation  high  pleasure  and  a  crowd  of  thoughts. 


190  THINGS    AND    THOUGHTS    IN    EUROPE. 

The  French  language  from  her  lips  is  a  divine  dialect ;  it  is 
stripped  of  its  national  and  personal  peculiarities,  and  becomes 
what  any  language  must,  moulded  by  such  a  genius,  —  the 
pure  music  of  the  heart  and  soul.  I  never  could  remember  her 
tone  in  speaking  any  word ;  it  was  too  perfect ;  you  had  received 
the  thought  quite  direct.  Yet,  had  I  never  heard  her  speak  a 
word,  my  mind  would  be  filled  by  her  attitudes.  Nothing  more 
graceful  can  be  conceived,  nor  could  the  genius  of  sculpture  sur 
pass  her  management  of  the  antique  drapery. 

She  has  no  beauty  except  in  the  intellectual  severity  of  her  out 
line,  and  bears  marks  of  age  which  will  grow  stronger  every  year, 
and  make  her  ugly  before  long.  Still  it  will  be  a  grandiose, 
gypsy,  or  rather  Sibylline  ugliness,  well  adapted  to  the  expression 
of  some  tragic  parts.  Only  it  seems  as  if  she  could  not  live  long ; 
she  expends  force  enough  upon  a  part  to  furnish  out  a  dozen 
common  lives. 

Though  the  French  tragedy  is  well  acted  throughout,  yet  un 
happily  there  is  no  male  actor  now  with  a  spark  of  fire,  and  these 
men  seem  the  meanest  pigmies  by  the  side  of  Rachel ;  —  so  on  the 
scene,  beside  the  tragedy  intended  by  the  author,  you  see  also  that 
common  tragedy,  a  woman  of  genius  who  throws  away  her  pre 
cious  heart,  lives  and  dies  for  one  unworthy  of  her.  In  parts  this 
effect  is  productive  of  too  much  pain.  I  saw  Rachel  one  night  with 
her  brother  and  sister.  The  sister  imitated  her  so  closely  that  you 
could  not  help  seeing  she  had  a  manner,  and  an  imitable  manner. 
Pier  brother  was  in  the  play  her  lover,  —  a  wretched  automa 
ton,  and  presenting  the  most  unhappy  family  likeness  to  herself. 
Since  then  I  have  hardly  cared  to  go  and  see  her.  We  could 
wish  with  geniuses,  as  with  the  Phoenix,  to  see  only  one  of  the 
family  at  a  time. 

In  the  pathetic  or  sentimental  drama  Paris  boasts  another 
young  actress,  nearly  as  distinguished  in  that  walk  as  Rachel  in 
hers.  This  is  Rose  Cheny,  whom  we  saw  in  her  ninety-eighth 
personation  of  Clarissa  Harlowe,  and  afterward  in  Genevieve  and 
the  Protege  sans  le  Savoir,  —  a  little  piece  written  expressly  for 
her  by  Scribe.  The  "  Miss  Clarisse  "  of  the  French  drama  is  a 


DUMAS.  191 

feeble  and  partial  reproduction  of  the  heroine  of  Richardson ;  in 
deed,  the  original  in  all  its  force  of  intellect  and  character  would 
have  been  too  much  for  the  charming  Rose  Cheny,  but  to  the 
purity  and  lovely  tenderness  of  Clarissa  she  does  full  justice.  In 
the  other  characters  she  was  the  true  French  girl,  full  of  grace 
and  a  mixture  of  naivete  and  cunning,  sentiment  and  frivolity, 
that  is  winning  and  piquant,  if  not  satisfying.  Only  grief  seems 
very  strange  to  those  bright  eyes ;  we  do  not  find  that  they  can 
weep  much  and  bear  the  light  of  day,  and  the  inhaling  of  charcoal 
seems  near  at  hand  to  their  brightest  pleasures. 

At  the  other  little  theatres  you  see  excellent  acting,  and  a 
sparkle  of  wit  unknown  to  the  world  out  of  France.  The  little 
pieces  in  which  all  the  leading  topics  of  the  day  are  reviewed  are 
full  of  drolleries  that  make  you  laugh  at  each  instant.  Poudre- 
Coton  is  the  only  one  of  these  I  have  seen ;  in  this,  among  other 
jokes,  Dumas,  in  the  character  of  Monte-Christo  and  in  a  costume 
half  Oriental,  half  juggler,  is  made  to  pass  the  other  theatres  in 
review  while  seeking  candidates  for  his  new  one. 

Dumas  appeared  in  court  yesterday,  and  defended  his  own  cause 
against  the  editors  who  sue  him  for  evading  some  of  his  engage 
ments.  I  was  very  desirous  to  hear  him  speak,  and  went  there 
in  what  I  was  assured  would  be  very  good  season ;  but  a  French 
audience,  who  knew  the  ground  better,  had  slipped  in  before  me, 
and  I  returned,  as  has  been  too  often  the  case  with  me  in  Paris, 
having  seen  nothing  but  endless  staircases,  dreary  vestibules,  and 
gens  d'armes.  The  hospitality  of  le  grande  nation  to  the  stranger 
is,  in  many  respects,  admirable.  Galleries,  libraries,  cabinets  of 
coins,  museums,  are  opened  in  the  most  liberal  manner  to  the 
stranger,  warmed,  lighted,  ay,  and  guarded,  for  him  almost  all 
days  in  the  week  ;  treasures  of  the  past  are  at  his  service ;  but 
when  anything  is  happening  in  the  present,  the  French  run  quick 
er,  glide  in  more  adroitly,  and  get  possession  of  the  ground.  I 
find  it  not  the  most  easy  matter  to  get  to  places  even  where  there 
is  nothing  going  on,  there  is  so  much  tiresome  fuss  of  getting 
billets  from  one  and  another  to  be  gone  through ;  but  when  some 
thing  is  happening  it  is  still  worse.  I  missed  hearing  M.  Guizot  in 


192  THINGS    AND    THOUGHTS    IN    EUROPE. 

his  speech  on  the  Montpensier  marriage,  which  would  have  given 
a  very  good  idea  of  his  manner,  and  which,  like  this  defence  of 
M.  Dumas,  was  a  skilful  piece  of  work  as  regards  evasion  of  the 
truth.  The  good  feeling  toward  England  which  had  been  fostered 
with  so  much  care  and  toil  seems  to  have  been  entirely  dissipated 
by  the  mutual  recriminations  about  this  marriage,  and  the  old  dis 
like  flames  up  more  fiercely  for  having  been  hid  awhile  beneath 
the  ashes.  I  saw  the  little  Duchess,  the  innocent  or  ignorant  cause 
of  all  this  disturbance,  when  presented  at  court.  She  went  round 
the  circle  on  the  arm  of  the  Queen.  Though  only  fourteen,  she 
looks  twenty,  but  has  something  fresh,  engaging,  and  girlish  about 
her.  I  fancy  it  will  soon  be  rubbed  out  under  the  drill  of  the 
royal  household. 

I  attended  not  only  at  the  presentation,  but  at  the  ball  given  at 
the  Tuileries  directly  after.  These  are  fine  shows,  as  the  suite  of 
apartments  is  very  handsome,  brilliantly  lighted,  and  the  French  la 
dies  surpass  all  others  in  the  art  of  dress  ;  indeed,  it  gave  me  much 
pleasure  to  see  them.  Certainly  there  are  many  ugly  ones,  but 
they  are  so  well  dressed,  and  have  such  an  air  of  graceful  vivacity, 
that  the  general  effect  was  that  of  a  flower-garden.  As  often  hap 
pens,  several  American  women  were  among  the  most  distinguished 
for  positive  beauty  ;  one  from  Philadelphia,  who  is  by  many  per 
sons  considered  the  prettiest  ornament  of  the  dress  circle  at  the 
Italian  Opera,  was  especially  marked  by  the  attention  of  the  king. 
HoAvever,  these  ladies,  even  if  here  a  long  time,  do  not  attain  the 
air  and  manner  of  French  women  ;  the  magnetic  atmosphere  that 
envelops  them  is  less  brilliant  and  exhilarating  in  its  attractions. 

It  was  pleasant  to  my  eye,  which  has  always  been  so  wearied 
in  our  country  by  the  sombre  masses  of  men  that  overcloud  our 
public  assemblies,  to  see  them  now  in  so  great  variety  of  costume, 
color,  and  decoration. 

Among  the  crowd  wandered  Leverrier,  in  the  costume  of  Acad 
emician,  looking  as  if  he  had  lost,  not  found,  his  planet.  French 
savants  are  more  generally  men  of  the  world,  and  even  men  of 
fashion,  than  those  of  other  climates ;  but,  in  his  case,  he  seemed 
not  to  find  it  easy  to  exchange  the  music  of  the  spheres  for  the 
music  of  fiddles. 


THE    SORBONNE.  193 

Speaking  of  Leverrier  leads  to  another  of  my  disappointments. 
I  went  to  the  Sorbonne  to  hear  him  lecture,  nothing  dreaming 
that  the  old  pedantic  and  theological  character  of  those  halls  was 
strictly  kept  up  in  these  days  of  light.  An  old  guardian  of  the 
inner  temple,  seeing  me  approach,  had  his  speech  all  ready,  and, 
manning  the  entrance,  said  with  a  disdainful  air,  before  we  had 
time  to  utter  a  word,  "  Monsieur  may  enter  if  he  pleases,  but 
Madame  must  remain  here  "  (i.  e.  in  the  court-yard) .  After  some 
exclamations  of  surprise,  I  found  an  alternative  in  the  Hotel  de 
Clugny,  where  I  passed  an  hour  very  delightfully  while  waiting 
for  my  companion.  The  rich  remains  of  other  centuries  are  there 
so  arranged  that  they  can  be  seen  to  the  best  advantage  ;  many 
of  the  works  in  ivory,  china,  and  carved  wood  are  truly  splendid 
or  exquisite.  I  saw  a  dagger  with  jewelled  hilt  which  talked 
whole  poems  to  my  mind.  In  the  various  "  Adorations  of  the 
Magi,"  I  found  constantly  one  of  the  wise  men  black,  and  with 
the  marked  African  lineaments.  Before  I  had  half  finished,  my 
companion  came  and  wished  me  at  least  to  visit  the  lecture-rooms 
of  the  Sorbonne,  now  that  the  talk,  too  good  for  female  ears,  was 
over.  But  the  guardian  again  interfered  to  deny  me  entrance. 
"  You  can  go,  Madame,"  said  he,  "  to  the  College  of  France  ;  you 
can  go  to  this  and  t'other  place,  but  you  cannot  enter  here." 
"  What,  sir,"  said  I,  "  is  it  your  institution  alone  that  remains  in  a 
state  of  barbarism  ?  "  "  Que  voulez  vous,  Madame  ?  "  he  replied, 
and,  as  he  spoke,  his  little  dog  began  to  bark  at  me,  — "  Que 
voulez  vous,  Madame  ?  c'est  la  regie,"  —  "  What  would  you  have, 
Madam  ?  IT  is  THE  RULE,"  —  a  reply  which  makes  me  laugh 
even  now,  as  I  think  how  the  satirical  wits  of  former  days  might 
have  used  it  against  the  bulwarks  of  learned  dulness. 

I  was  more  fortunate  in  hearing  Arago,  and  he  justified  all  my 
expectations.  Clear,  rapid,  full  and  equal,  his  discourse  is  worthy 
its  celebrity,  and  I  felt  repaid  for  the  four  hours  one  is  obliged  to 
spend  in  going,  in  waiting,  and  in  hearing ;  for  the  lecture  begins 
at  half  past  one,  and  you  must  be  there  before  twelve  to  get  a 
seat,  so  constant  and  animated  is  his  popularity. 

I  have  attended,  with  some  interest,  two  discussions  at  the 
17 


194  THINGS    AND    THOUGHTS    IN    EUROPE. 

Athenee, —  one  on  Suicide,  the  other  on  the  Crusades.  They 
are  amateur  affairs,  where,  as  always  at  such  times,  one  hears 
much  nonsense  and  vanity,  much  making  of  phrases  and  senti 
mental  grimace ;  but  there  was  one  excellent  speaker,  adroit 
and  rapid  as  only  a  Frenchman  could  be.  With  admirable  read 
iness,  skill,  and  rhetorical  polish,  he  examined  the  arguments 
of  all  the  others,  and  built  upon  their  failures  a  triumph  for  him 
self.  His  management  of  the  language,  too,  was  masterly,  and 
French  is  the  best  of  languages  for  such  a  purpose,  —  clear,  flex 
ible,  full  of  sparkling  points  and  quick,  picturesque  turns,  with  a 
subtile  blandness  that  makes  the  dart  tickle  while  it  wounds. 
Truly  he  pleased  the  fancy,  filled  the  ear,  and  carried  us  pleasant 
ly  along  over  the  smooth,  swift  waters ;  but  then  came  from  the 
crowd  a  gentleman,  not  one  of  the  appointed  orators  of  the  even 
ing,  but  who  had  really  something  in  his  heart  to  say,  —  a  grave, 
dark  man,  with  Spanish  eyes,  and  the  simple  dignity  of  honor  and 
earnestness  in  all  his  gesture  and  manner.  He  said  in  few  and 
unadorned  words  his  say,  and  the  sense  of  a  real  presence  filled 
the  room,  and  those  charms  of  rhetoric  faded,  as  vanish  the  beau 
ties  of  soap-bubbles  from  the  eyes  of  astonished  childhood. 

I  was  present  on  one  good  occasion  at  the  Academy  the  day 
that  M.  Remusat  was  received  there  in  the  place  of  Royer-Collard. 
IJooked  down  from  one  of  the  tribunes  upon  the  flower  of  the 
celebrities  of  France,  that  is  to  say,  of  the  celebrities  which  are 
authentic,  comme  il  faut.  Among  them  were  many  marked  faces, 
many  fine  heads  ;  but  in  reading  the  works  of  poets  we  always 
fancy  them  about  the  age  of  Apollo  himself,  and  I  found  with  pain 
some  of  my  favorites  quite  old,  and  very  unlike  the  company  on 
Parnassus  as  represented  by  Raphael.  Some,  however,  were 
venerable,  even  noble,  to  behold.  Indeed,  the  literary  dynasty  of 
France  is  growing  old,  and  here,  as  in  England  and  Germany, 
there  seems  likely  to  occur  a  serious  gap  before  the  inauguration 
of  another,  if  indeed  another  is  coming. 

However,  it  was  an  imposing  sight ;  there  are  men  of  real  dis 
tinction  now  in  the  Academy,  and  Moliere  would  have  a  fair 
chance  if  he  were  proposed  to-day.  Among  the  audience  I  saw 


LA  MENNAIS  AND  BER  ANGER.  195 

many  ladies  of  fine  expression  and  manner,  as  well  as  one  or  two 
precieuses  ridicules,  a  race  which  is  never  quite  extinct. 

M.  Remusat,  as  is  the  custom  on  these  occasions,  painted  the 
portrait  of  his  predecessor ;  the  discourse  was  brilliant  and  dis 
criminating  in  the  details,  but  the  orator  seemed  to  me  to  neglect 
drawing  some  obvious  inferences  which  would  have  given  a  better 
point  of  view  for  his  subject. 

A  seance  to  me  much  more  impressive  and  interesting  was  one 
which  borrowed  nothing  from  dress,  decorations,  or  the  presence 
of  titled  pomp.  I  went  to  call  on  La  Mennais.  to  whom  I  had  a 
letter.  I  found  him  in  a  little  study  ;  his  secretary  was  writing 
in  a  larger  room  through  which  I  passed.  With  him  was  a  some 
what  citizen-looking,  but  vivacious,  elderly  man,  whom  I  was  at 
first  sorry  to  see,  having  wished  for  half  an  hour's  undisturbed 
visit  to  the  apostle  of  Democracy.  But  how  quickly  were  those 
feelings  displaced  by  joy  when  he  named  to  me  the  great  national 
lyrist  of  France,  the  unequalled  Beranger.  I  had  not  expected  to 
see  him  at  all,  for  he  is  not  one  to  be  seen  in  any  show  place ;  he 
lives  in  the  hearts  of  the  people,  and  needs  no  homage  from  their 
eyes.  I  was  very  happy  in  that  little  study  in  presence  of  these 
two  men,  whose  influence  has  been  so  great,  so  real.  To  me 
Be*  ranger  has  been  much ;  his  wit,  his  pathos,  his  exquisite  lyric 
grace,  have  made  the  most  delicate  strings  vibrate,  and  I  can  feel, 
as  well  as  see,  what  he  is  in  his  nation  and  his  place.  I  have  not 
personally  received  anything  from  La  Mennais,  as,  born  under 
other  circumstances,  mental  facts  which  he,  once  the  pupil  of  Rome, 
has  learned  by  passing  through  severe  ordeals,  are  at  the  basis  of 
all  my  thoughts.  But  I  see  well  what  he  has  been  and  is  to  Europe, 
and  of  what  great  force  of  nature  and  spirit.  He  seems  suffering 
and  pale,  but  in  his  eyes  is  the  light  of  the  future. 

These  are  men  who  need  no  flourish  of  trumpets  to  announce 
their  coming,  —  no  band  of  martial  music  upon  their  steps,  —  no 
obsequious  nobles  in  their  train.  They  are  the  true  kings,  the 
theocratic  kings,  the  judges  in  Israel.  The  hearts  of  men  make 
music  at  their  approach  ;  the  mind  of  the  age  is  the  historian,  of 
their  passage  ;  and  only  men  of  destiny  like  themselves  shall  be 
permitted  to  write  their  eulogies,  or  fill  their  vacant  seats. 


196  THINGS    AND    THOUGHTS    IN    EUROPE. 

Wherever  there  is  a  genius  like  his  own,  a  germ  of  the  finest 
fruit  still  hidden  beneath  the  soil,  the  "  Chante  pauvre  petit "  of 
Beranger  shall  strike,  like  a  sunbeam,  and  give  it  force  to  emerge, 
and  wherever  there  is  the  true  Crusade,  —  for  the  spirit,  not  the 
tomb  of  Christ,  —  shall  be  felt  an  echo  of  the  "  Que  tes  armes 
soient  benisjeune  soldat "  of  La  Mennais. 


LETTER    XI. 

France  and  her  Artistic  Excellence.  —  The  Pictures  of  Horace  Vernet.  —  De 
la  Roche.  —  Leopold  Robert.  —  Contrast  between  the  French  and  English 
Schools  of  Art.  —  The  general  Appreciation  of  Turner's  Pictui-es.  —  Botanical 
Models  in  Wax.  —  Music.  —  The  Opera.  —  Duprez.  —  Lablache.  —  Ronconi. 
—  Grisi.  —  Persiana.  —  "  Semiramide  "  as  performed  by  the  New  York  and 
Paris  Operas.  —  Mario.  —  Coletti.  — Gardini.  — "  Don  Giovanni."  —  The  Writ 
er's  Trial  of  the  "  Letheon."  —  Its  Effects. 

IT  needs  not  to  speak  in  this  cursory  manner  of  the  treasures 
of  Art,  pictures,  sculptures,  engravings,  and  the  other  riches  which 
France  lays  open  so  freely  to  the  stranger  in  her  Musees.  Any 
examination  worth  writing  of  such  objects,  or  account  of  the 
thoughts  they  inspire,  demands  a  place  by  itself,  and  an  ample 
field  in  which  to  expatiate.  The  American,  first  introduced  to 
some  good  pictures  by  the  truly  great  geniuses  of  the  religious 
period  in  Art,  must,  if  capable  at  all  of  mental  approximation  -o 
the  life  therein  embodied,  be  too  deeply  affected,  too  full  of 
thoughts,  to  be  in  haste  to  say  anything,  and  for  me,  I  bide  my 
time. 

No  such  great  crisis,  however,  is  to  be  apprehended  from  ac 
quaintance  with  the  productions  of  the  modern  French  school. 
They  are,  indeed,  full  of  talent  and  of  vigor,  but  also  melodra 
matic  and  exaggerated  to  a  degree  that  seems  to  give  the  night 
mare  passage  through  the  fresh  and  cheerful  day.  They  sound 
no  depth  of  soul,  and  are  marked  with  the  signet  of  a  degen 
erate  age. 

Thus  speak  I  generally.    To  the  pictures  of  Horace  Vernet  one 

cannot  but  turn  a  gracious  eye,  they  are  so  faithful  a  transcript 

of  the  life  which  circulates  around  us  in  the  present  state  of  things, 

and  we  are  willing  to  see  his  nobles  and  generals  mounted  on 

17* 


198  THINGS    AND    THOUGHTS    IN    EUROPE. 

such  excellent  horses.  De  la  Roche  gives  me  pleasure ;  there  is 
in  his  pictures  a  simple  and  natural  poesy ;  he  is  a  man  who  has 
in  his  own  heart  a  well  of  good  water,  whence  he  draws  for  him 
self  when  the  streams  are  mixed  with  strange  soil  and  bear  offen 
sive  marks  of  the  bloody  battles  of  life. 

The  pictures  of  Leopold  Robert  I  find  charming.  They  are 
full  of  vigor  and  nobleness  ;  they  express  a  nature  where  all  is 
rich,  young,  and  on  a  large  scale.  Those  that  I  have  seen  are  so 
happily  expressive  of  the  thoughts  and  perceptions  of  early  man 
hood,  I  can  hardly  regret  he  did  not  live  to  enter  on  another  stage 
of  life,  the  impression  now  received  is  so  single. 

The  effort  of  the  French  school  in  Art,  as  also  its  main  ten 
dency  in  literature,  seems  to  be  to  turn  the  mind  inside  out,  in  the  ' 
coarsest  acceptation  of  such  a  phrase.  Art  can  only  be  truly  Art 
by  presenting  an  adequate  outward  symbol  of  some  fact  in  the  in 
terior  life.  But  then  it  is  a  symbol  that  Art  seeks  to  present,  and 
not  the  fact  itself.  These  French  painters  seem  to  have  no  idea 
of  this  ;  they  have  not  studied  the  method  of  Nature.  With  the 
true  artist,  as  with  Nature  herself,  the  more  full  the  representa 
tion,  the  more  profound  and  enchanting  is  the  sense  of  mystery. 
"We  look  and  look,  as  on  a  flower  of  which  we  cannot  scrutinize 
the  secret  life,  yet  by  looking  seem  constantly  drawn  nearer  to 
the  soul  that  causes  and  governs  that  life.  But  in  the  French 
pictures  suffering  is  represented  by  streams  of  blood,  —  wicked 
ness  by  the  most  ghastly  contortions. 

I  saw  a  movement  in  the  opposite  direction  in  England ;  it 
was  in  Turner's  pictures  of  the  later  period.  It  is  well  known 
that  Turner,  so  long  an  idol  of  the  English  public,  paints  now  in 
a  manner  which  has  caused  the  liveliest  dissensions  in  the  world 
of  connoisseurs.  There  are  two  parties,  one  of  which  maintains, 
not  only  that  the  pictures  of  the  late  period  are  not  good,  but  that 
they  are  not  pictures  at  all,  —  that  it  is  impossible  to  make  out 
the  design,  or  find  what  Turner  is  aiming  at  by  those  strange 
blotches  of  color.  The  other  party  declare  that  these  pictures  are 
not  only  good,  but  divine,  —  that  whoever  looks  upon  them  in  the 
true  manner  will  not  fail  to  find  there  somewhat  ineffably  and 


TURNER'S  PICTURES.  199 

transcendently  admirable,  —  the  soul  of  Art.     Books  have  been 
written  to  defend  this  side  of  the  question. 

I  had  become  much  interested  about  this  matter,  as  the  fervor 
of  feeling  on  either  side  seemed  to  denote  that  there  was  some 
thing  real  and  vital  going  on,  and,  while  time  would  not  permit 
my  visiting  other  private  collections  in  London  and  its  neigh 
borhood,  I  insisted  on  taking  it  for  one  of  Turner's  pictures.  It 
was  at  the  house  of  one  of  his  devoutest  disciples,  who  has  ar 
ranged  everything  in  the  rooms  to  harmonize  with  them.  There 
were  a  great  many  of  the  earlier  period  ;  these  seemed  to  me 
charming,  but  superficial,  views  of  Nature.  They  were  of  a 
character  that  he  who  runs  may  read,  —  obvious,  simple,  grace 
ful.  The  later  pictures  were  quite  a  different  matter ;  mysterious- 
looking  things,  —  hieroglyphics  of  picture,  rather  than  picture 
itself.  Sometimes  you  saw  a  range  of  red  dots,  which,  after  long 
looking,  dawned  on  you  as  the  roofs  of  houses,  —  shining  streaks 
turned  out  to  be  most  alluring  rivulets,  if  traced  with  patience 
and  a  devout  eye.  Above  all,  they  charmed  the  eye  and  the 
thought.  Still,  these  pictures,  it  seems  to  me,  cannot  be  con 
sidered  fine  works  of  Art,  more  than  the  mystical  writing  com 
mon  to  a  certain  class  of  minds  in  the  United  States  can  be 
called  good  writing.  A  great  work  of  Art  demands  a  great 
thought,  or  a  thought  of  beauty  adequately  expressed.  Neither 
in  Art  nor  literature  more  than  in  life  can  an  ordinary 
thought  be  made  interesting  because  well  dressed.  But  in  a 
transition  state,  whether  of  Art  or  literature,  deeper  thoughts 
are  imperfectly  expressed,  because  they  cannot  yet  be  held  and 
treated  masterly.  This  seems  to  be  the  case  with  Turner.  He 
has  got  beyond  the  English  gentleman's  conventional  view  of 
Nature,  which  implies  a  little  sentiment  and  a  very  cultivated 
taste;  he  has  become  awake  to  what  is  elemental,  normal,  in 
Nature, —  such,  for  instance,  as  one  sees  in  the  working  of  water 
on  the  sea-shore.  He  tries  to  represent  these  primitive  forms. 
In  the  drawings  of  Piranesi,  in  the  pictures  of  Rembrandt,  one 
sees  this  grand  language  exhibited  more  truly.  It  is  not  picture, 
but  certain  primitive  and  leading  effects  of  light  and  shadow,  or 


200  THINGS    AND    THOUGHTS    IN    EUROPE. 

lines  and  contours,  that  captivate  the  attention.  I  saw  a  picture 
of  Rembrandt's  at  the  Louvre,  whose  subject  I  do  not  know  and 
have  never  cared  to  inquire.  I  cannot  analyze  the  group,  but  I 
understand  and  feel  the  thought  it  embodies.  At  something 
similar  Turner  seems  aiming ;  an  aim  so  opposed  to  the  practical 
and  outward  tendency  of  the  English  mind,  that,  as  a  matter  of 
course,  the  majority  find  themselves  mystified,  and  thereby  an 
gered,  but  for  the  same  reason  answering  to  so  deep  and  seldom 
satisfied  a  want  in  the  minds  of  the  minority,  as  to  secure  the  most 
ardent  sympathy  where  any  at  all  can  be  elicited. 

Upon  this  topic  of  the  primitive  forms  and  operations  of 
nature,  I  am  reminded  of  something  interesting  I  was  looking  at 
yesterday.  These  are  botanical  models  in  wax,  with  microscopic 
dissections,  by  an  artist  from  Florence,  a  pupil  of  Calarnajo,  the 
Director  of  the  Wax-Model  Museum  there.  I  saw  collections 
of  ten  different  genera,  embracing  from  fifty  to  sixty  species,  of 
Fungi,  Mosses,  and  Lichens,  detected  and  displayed  in  all  the 
beautiful  secrets  of  their  lives  ;  many  of  them  as  observed  by  Dr. 
Leveille  of  Paris.  The  artist  told  me  that  a  fisherman,  introduced 
to  such  acquaintance  with  the  marvels  of  love  and  beauty  which 
we  trample  under  foot  or  burn  in  the  chimney  each  careless  day, 
exclaimed,  "  'T  is  the  good  God  who  protects  us  on  the  sea  that 
made  all  these  " ;  and  a  similar  recognition,  a  correspondent  feel 
ing,  will  not  be  easily  evaded  by  the  most  callous  observer.  This 
artist  has  supplied  many  of  these  models  to  the  magnificent  collec 
tion  of  the  Jardin  des  Plantes,  to  Edinburgh,  and  to  Bologna,  and 
would  furnish  them  to  our  museums  at  a  much  cheaper  rate  than 
they  can  elsewhere  be  obtained.  I  wish  the  Universities  of  Cam 
bridge,  New  York,  and  other  leading  institutions  of  our  country, 
might  avail  themselves  of  the  opportunity. 

In  Paris  I  have  not  been  very  fortunate  in  hearing  the  best 
music.  At  the  different  Opera-Houses,  the  orchestra  is  always 
good,  but  the  vocalization,  though  far  superior  to  what  I  have 
heard  at  home,  falls  so  far  short  of  my  ideas  and  hopes  that  — 
except  to  the  Italian  Opera  —  I  have  not  been  often.  The  Opera 
Comique  I  visited  only  once ;  it  was  tolerably  well,  and  no  more, 


THE    OPERA.  201 

and,  for  myself,  I  find  the  tolerable  intolerable  in  music.  At  the 
Grand  Opera  I  heard  Robert  le  Diable  and  Guillaume  Tell  almost 
with  ennui ;  the  decorations  and  dresses  are  magnificent,  the  instru 
mental  performance  good,  but  not  one  fine  singer  to  fill  these  fine 
parts.  Duprez  has  had  a  great  reputation,  and  probably  has  sung 
better  in  former  days ;  still  he  has  a  vulgar  mind,  and  can  never 
have  had  any  merit  as  an  artist.  At  present  I  find  him  unbear 
able.  He  forces  his  voice,  sings  in  the  most  coarse,  showy  style, 
and  aims  at  producing  effects  without  regard  to  the  harmony  of 
his  part ;  fat  and  vulgar,  he  still  takes  the  part  of  the  lover  and 
young  chevalier ;  to  my  sorrow  I  saw  him  in  Ravenswood,  and  he 
has  well-nigh  disenchanted  for  me  the  Bride  of  Lammermoor. 

The  Italian  Opera  is  here  as  well  sustained,  I  believe,  as  any 
where  in  the  world  at  present ;  all  about  it  is  certainly  quite 
good,  but  alas  !  nothing  excellent,  nothing  admirable.  Yet  no  !  I 
must  not  say  nothing  :  Lablache  is  excellent,  —  voice,  intonation, 
manner  of  song,  action.  Ronconi  I  found  good  in  the  Doctor 
of  "  L?  EKsire  d'  Amore.  For  the  higher  parts  Grisi,  though  now 
much  too  large  for  some  of  her  parts,  and  without  a  particle  of 
poetic  grace  or  dignity,  has  certainly  beauty  of  feature,  and  from 
nature  a  fine  voice.  But  I  find  her  conception  of  her  parts 
equally  coarse  and  shallow.  Her  love  is  the  love  of  a  peasant ; 
her  anger,  though  having  the  Italian  picturesque  richness  and 
vigor,  is  the  anger  of  an  Italian  fishwife,  entirely  unlike  any 
thing  in  the  same  rank  elsewhere ;  her  despair  is  that  of  a  person 
with  the  toothache,  or  who  has  drawn  a  blank  in  the  lottery. 
The  first  time  I  saw  her  was  in  Norma  ;  then  the  beauty  of 
her  outline,  which  becomes  really  enchanting  as  she  recalls  the 
first  emotions  of  love,  the  force  and  gush  of  her  song,  filled  my 
ear,  and  charmed  the  senses,  so  that  I  was  pleased,  and  did  not 
perceive  her  great  defects ;  but  with  each  time  of  seeing  her 
I  liked  her  less,  and  now  I  do  not  like  her  at  all. 

Persiani  is  more  generally  a  favorite  here  ;  she  is  indeed  skil 
ful  both  as  an  actress  and  in  the  management  of  her  voice,  but 
I  find  her  expression  meretricious,  her  singing  mechanical. 
Neither  of  these  women  is  equal  to  Pico  in  natural  force,  if  she 


202  THINGS    AND    THOUGHTS    IN    EUROPE. 

had  but  the  same  advantages  of  culture  and  environment  In 
hearing  Semiramide  here,  I  first  learned  to  appreciate  the  de 
gree  of  talent  with  which  it  was  cast  in  New  York.  Grisi  indeed 
is  a  far  better  Semiramis  than  Borghese,  but  the  best  parts  of 
the  opera  lost  all  their  charm  from  the  inferiority  of  Brambilla? 
who  took  Pico's  place.  Mario  has  a  charming  voice,  grace  and 
tenderness  ;  he  fills  very  well  the  part  of  the  young,  chivalric 
lover,  but  he  has  no  range  of  power.  Coletti  is  a  very  good 
singer ;  he  has  not  from  Nature  a  fine  voice  or  personal  beauty ; 
but  he  has  talent,  good  taste,  and  often  surpasses  the  expectation 
he  has  inspired.  Gardini,  the  new  singer,  I  have  only  heard 
once,  and  that  was  in  a  lovesick-shepherd  part ;  he  showed  del 
icacy,  tenderness,  and  tact.  In  fine,  among  all  these  male  singers 
there  is  much  to  please,  but  little  to  charm  ;  and  for  the  women, 
they  never  fail  absolutely  to  fill  their  parts,  but  no  ray  of  the 
Muse  has  fallen  on  them. 

Don  Giovanni  conferred  on  me  a  benefit,  of  which  certainly 
its  great  author  never  dreamed.  I  shall  relate  it,  —  first  begging 
pardon  of  Mozart,  and  assuring  him  I  had  no  thought  of  turning 
his  music  to  the  account  of  a  "  vulgar  utility."  It  was  quite  by 
accident.  After  suffering  several  days  very  much  with  the  tooth 
ache,  I  resolved  to  get  rid  of  the  cause  of  sorrow  by  the  aid  of 
ether ;  not  sorry,  either,  to  try  its  efficacy,  after  all  the  marvellous 
stories  1  had  heard.  The  first  time  I  inhaled  it,  I  did  not  for  sev 
eral  seconds  feel  the  effect,  and  was  just  thinking,  "  Alas  !  this 
has  not  power  to  soothe  nerves  so  irritable  as  mine,"  when  sud- 
'denly  I  wandered  off,  I  don't  know  where,  but  it  was  a  sensation 
like  wandering  in  long  garden-walks,  and  through  many  alleys  of 
trees,  —  many  impressions,  but  all  pleasant  and  serene.  The 
moment  the  tube  was  removed,  I  started  into  consciousness,  and 
put  my  hand  to  my  cheek  ;  but,  sad  !  the  throbbing  tooth  was  still 
there.  The  dentist  said  I  had  not  seemed  to  him  insensible.  He 
then  gave  me  the  ether  in  a  stronger  dose,  and  this  time  I  quitted 
the  body  instantly,  and  cannot  remember  any  detail  of  what  I  saw 
and  did;  but  the  impression  was  as  in  the  Oriental  tale,  where  the 
man  has  his  head  in  the  water  an  instant  only,  but  in  his  vision  a 


THE    LETHEON.  203 

thousand  years  seem  to  have  passed.  I  experienced  that  same 
sense  of  an  immense  length  of  time  and  succession  of  impressions ; 
even  now,  the  moment  my  mind  was  in  that  state  seems  to  me  a 
far  longer  period  in  time  than  my  life  on  earth  does  as  I  look  back 
upon  it.  Suddenly  I  seemed  to  see  the  old  dentist,  as  I  had  for 
the  moment  before  I  inhaled  the  gas,  amid  his  plants,  in  his  night 
cap  and  dressing-gown ;  in  the  twilight  the  figure  had  somewhat 
of  a  Faust-like,  magical  air,  and  he  seemed  to  say,  "  O'est  inutile" 
Again  I  started  up,  fancying  that  once  more  he  had  not  dared  to 
extract  the  tooth,  but  it  was  gone.  What  is  worth  noticing  is  the 
mental  translation  I  made  of  his  words,  which  my  ear  must  have 
caught,  for  my  companion  tells  me  he  said,  "  O'est  le  moment"  a 
phrase  of  just  as  many  syllables,  but  conveying  just  the  opposite 
sense. 

Ah !  how  I  wished  then  that  you  had  settled,  there  in  the 
United  States,  who  really  brought  this  means  of  evading  a  portion 
of  the  misery  of  life  into  use.  But  as  it  was,  I  remained  at  a  loss 
whom  to  apostrophize  with  my  benedictions,  whether  Dr.  Jackson, 
Morton,  or  Wells,  and  somebody  thus  was  robbed  of  his  due;  — 
neither  does  Europe  know  to  whom  to  address  her  medals. 

However,  there  is  no  evading  the  heavier  part  of  these  mis 
eries.  You  avoid  the  moment  of  suffering,  and  escape  the  effort  of 
screwing  up  your  courage  for  one  of  these  moments,  but  not  the 
jar  to  the  whole  system.  I  found  the  effect  of  having  taken  the 
ether  bad  for  me.  I  seemed  to  taste  it  all  the  time,  and  neural 
gic  pain  continued ;  this  lasted  three  days.  For  the  evening  of 
the  third,  I  had  taken  a  ticket  to  Don  Giovanni,  and  could  not 
bear  to  give  up  this  opera,  which  I  had  always  been  longing 
to  hear  ;  still  I  was  in  much  suffering,  and,  as  it  was  the  sixth  day 
I  had  been  so,  much  weakened.  However,  I  went,  expecting  to 
be  obliged  to  come  out ;  but  the  music  soothed  the  nerves  at  once. 
I  hardly  suffered  at  all  during  the  opera ;  however,  I  supposed 
the  pain  would  return  as  soon  as  I  came  out ;  but  no  !  it  left  me 
from  that  time.  Ah  !  if  physicians  only  understood  the  influence 
of  the  mind  over  the  body,  instead  of  treating,  as  they  so  oYten  do, 
their  patients  like  machines,  and  according  to  precedent !  But  I 
must  pause  here  for  to-day. 


LETTER    XII. 

Adieu  to  Paris.  — Its  Scenes.  —  The  Procession  of  the  Fat  Ox.  —  Destitution  of 
the  Poorer  Classes.  —  Need  of  a  Reform.  —  The  Doctrines  of  Fourier  making 
Progress.  —  Review  of  Fourier's  Life  and  Character.  —  The  Parisian  Press  on 
the  Spanish  Marriage.  —  Gtflzot's  Policy.  —  Napoleon.  —  The  Manuscripts  of 
Rousseau  in  the  Chamber  of  Deputies.  —  His  Character.  —  Speech  of  M.  Berryer 
in  the  Chamber.  —  American  and  French  Oratory.  —  The  Affair  of  Cracow.  — 
Dull  Speakers  in  the  Chamber.  —  French  Vivacity.  —  Amusing  Scene.  — 
Guizot  speaking.  —  International  Exchange  of  Books.  —  The  Evening  School 
of  the  Freres  Chretiens.  —  The  Great  Good  accomplished  by  them.  —  Sug 
gestions  for  the  like  in  America.  —  The  Institution  of  the  Deaconesses.  —  The 
New  York  "  Home."  —  School  for  Idiots  near  Paris.  —  The  Reclamation  of 
Idiots. 

I  BADE  adieu  to  Paris  on  the  25th  of  February,  just  as  we 
had  had  one  fine  day.  It  was  the  only  one  of  really  delightful 
weather,  from  morning  till  night,  that  I  had  to  enjoy  all  the 
while  I  was  at  Paris,  from  the  13th  of  November  till  the  25th 
of  February.  Let  no  one  abuse  our  climate  ;  even  in  winter 
it  is  delightful,  compared  to  the  Parisian  winter  of  mud  and 
mist. 

This  one  day  brought  out  the  Parisian  world  in  its  gayest  colors. 
I  never  saw  anything  more  animated  or  prettier,  of  the  kind,  than 
the  promenade  that  day  in  the  Champs  Elysees.  Such  crowds  of 
gay  equipages,  with  cavaliers  and  their  amazons  flying  through 
their  midst  on  handsome  and  swift  horses  !  On  the  promenade, 
what  groups  of  passably  pretty  ladies,  with  excessively  pretty 
bonnets,  announcing  in  their  hues  of  light  green,  peach-blossom, 
and  primrose  the  approach  of  spring,  and  charming  children, 
for  French  children  are  charming !  I  cannot  speak  with  equal 
approbation  of  the  files  of  men  sauntering  arm  in  arm.  One  sees 


FOURIER.  205 

few  fine-looking  men  in  Paris  :  the  air,  half-military,  half-dandy, 
of  self-esteem  and  savoir-faire,  is  not  particularly  interesting ;  nor 
are  the  glassy  stare  arid  fumes  of  bad  cigars  exactly  what  one 
most  desires  to  encounter,  when  the  heart  is  opened  by  the  breath 
of  spring  zephyrs  and  the  hope  of  buds  and  blossoms. 

But  a  French  crowd  is  always  gay,  full  of  quick  turns  and 
drolleries ;  most  amusing  when  most  petulant,  it  represents  what 
is  so  agreeable  in  the  character  of  the  nation.  We  have  now 
seen  it  on  two  good  occasions,  the  festivities  of  the  new  year, 
and  just  after  we  came  was  the  procession  of  the  Fat  Ox,  de 
scribed,  if  I  mistake  not,  by  Eugene  Sue.  An  immense  crowd 
thronged  the  streets  this  year  to  see  it,  but  few  figures  and  little 
invention  followed  the  emblem  of  plenty  ;  indeed,  few  among  the 
people  could  have  had  the  heart  for  such  a  sham,  knowing  how 
the  poorer  classes  have  suffered  from  hunger  this  winter.  All 
signs  of  this  are  kept  out  of  sight  in  Paris.  A  pamphlet,  called 
"  The  Voice  of  Famine,"  stating  facts,  though  in  the  tone  of  vul 
gar  and  exaggerated  declamation,  unhappily  common  to  produc 
tions  on  the  radical  side,  was  suppressed  almost  as  s.oon  as  pub 
lished  ;  but  the  fact  cannot  be  suppressed,  that  the  people  in  the 
provinces  have  suffered  most  terribly  amid  the  vaunted  pros 
perity  of  France. 

While  Louis  Philippe  lives,  the  gases,  compressed  by  his  strong 
grasp,  may  not  burst  up  to  light ;  but  the  need  of  some  radical 
measures  of  reform  is  not  less  strongly  felt  in  France  than  else 
where,  and  the  time  will  come  before  long  when  such  will  be  im 
peratively  demanded.  The  doctrines  of  Fourier  are  making  con 
siderable  progress,  and  wherever  they  spread,  the  necessity  of 
some  practical  application  of  the  precepts  of  Christ,  in  lieu  of  the 
mummeries  of  a  worn-out  ritual,  cannot  fail  to  be  felt.  The  more 
I  see  of  the  terrible  ills  which  infest  the  body  politic  of  Europe, 
the  more  indignation  I  feel  at  the  selfishness  or  stupidity  of  those 
in  my  own  country  who*  oppose  an  examination  of  these  subjects, 
—  such  as  is  animated  by  the  hope  of  prevention.  The  mind  of 
Fourier  was,  in  many  respects,  uncongenial  to  mine.  Educated  in 
an  age  of  gross  materialism,  he  was  tainted  by  its  faults.  In  at- 
18 


206  THINGS    AND    THOUGHTS    IN    EUROPE. 

tempts  to  reorganize  society,  he  commits  the  error  of  making  soul 
the  result  of  health  of  body,  instead  of  body  the  clothing  of  soul ; 
but  his  heart  was  that  of  a  genuine  lover  of  his  kind,  of  a  plii- 
lanthropist  in  the  sense  of  Jesus,  —  his  views  were  large  and  noble. 
His  life  was  one  of  devout  study  on  these  subjects,  and  I  should 
pity  the  person  who,  after  the  briefest  sojourn  in  Manchester  and 
Lyons,  —  the  most  superficial  acquaintance  with  the  population  of 
London  and  Paris,  —  could  seek  to  hinder  a  study  of  his  thoughts, 
or  be  wanting  in  reverence  for  his  purposes.  But  always,  always, 
the  unthinking  mob  has  found  stones  on  the  highway  to  throw  at 
the  prophets. 

Amid  so  many  great  causes  for  thought  and  anxiety,  how  child 
ish  has  seemed  the  endless  gossip  of  the  Parisian  press  on  the 
subject  of  the  Spanish  marriage,  —  how  melancholy  the  flimsy 
falsehoods  of  M.  Guizot,  —  more  melancholy  the  avowal  so  naively 
made,  amid  those  falsehoods,  that  to  his  mind  expediency  is  the 
best  policy !  This  is  the  policy,  said  he,  that  has  made  France 
so  prosperous.  Indeed,  the  success  is  correspondent  with  the 
means,  though  in  quite  another  sense  than  that  he  meant. 

I  went  to  the  Hotel  des  Invalides,  supposing  I  should  be  admitted 
to  the  spot  where  repose  the  ashes  of  Napoleon^for  though  I  love 
not  pilgrimages  to  sepulchres,  and  prefer  paying  my  homage  to 
the  living  spirit  rather  than  to  the  dust  it  once  animated,  I  should 
have  liked  to  muse  a  moment  beside  his  urn  ;  but  as  yet  the  visitor 
is  not  admitted  there.  In  the  library,  however,  one  sees  the  picture 
of  Napoleon  crossing  the  Alps,  opposite  to  that  of  the  present  King 
of  the  French.  Just  as  they  are,  these  should  serve  as  frontis 
pieces  to  two  chapters  of  history.  In  the  first,  the  seed  was  sown 
in  a  field  of  blood  indeed,  yet  was  it  the  seed  of  all  that  is  vital  in 
the  present  period.  By  Napoleon  the  career  was  really  laid  open 
to  talent,  and  all  that  is  really  great  in  France  now  consists  in  the 
possibility  that  talent  finds  of  struggling  to  the  light. 

Paris  is  a  great  intellectual  centre,  and  there  is  a  Chamber  of 
Deputies  to  represent  the  people,  very  different  from  the  poor, 
limited  Assembly  politically  so  called.  Their  tribune  is  that  of 
literature,  and  one  needs  not  to  beg  tickets  to  mingle  with  the  au- 


THE    CHAMBER    OF   DEPUTIES.  207 

dience.  To  the  actually  so-called  Chamber  of  Deputies  I  was  in* 
debted  for  two  pleasures.  First  and  greatest,  a  sight  of  the  manu 
scripts  of  Rousseau  treasured  in  their  Library.  I  saw  them  and 
touched  them,  —  those  manuscripts  just  as  he  has  celebrated  them, 
written  on  the  fine  white  paper,  tied  with  ribbon.  Yellow  and 
faded  age  has  made  them,  yet  at  their  touch  I  seemed  to  feel  the  fire 
of  youth,  immortally  glowing,  more  and  more  expansive,  with  which 
his  soul  has  pervaded  this  century.  He  was  the  precursor  of  all 
we  most  prize.  True,  his  blood  was  mixed  with  madness,  and  the 
course  of  his  actual  life  made  some  detours  through  villanous 
places,  but  his  spirit  was  intimate  with  the  fundamental  truths  of 
human  nature,  and  fraught  with  prophecy.  There  is  none  who 
has  given  birth  to  more  life  for  this  age ;  his  gifts  are  yet  untold  ; 
they  are  too  present  with  us ;  but  he  who  thinks  really  must 
often  think  with  Rousseau,  and  learn  of  him  even  more  and  more  : 
such  is  the  method  of  genius,  to  ripen  fruit  for  the  crowd  of  those  ; 
rays  of  whose  heat  they  complain. 

The  second  pleasure  was  in  the  speech  of  M.  Berryer,  when 
the  Chamber  was  discussing  the  Address  to  the  King.  Those  of 
Thiers  and  Guizot  had  been,  so  far,  more  interesting,  as  they 
stood  for  more  that  was  important ;  but  M.  Berryer  is  the  most 
eloquent  speaker  of  the  House.  His  oratory  is,  indeed,  very 
good ;  not  logical,  but  plausible,  full  and  rapid,  with  occasional 
bursts  of  flame  and  showers  of  sparks,  though  indeed  no  stone  of 
size  and  weight  enough  to  crush  any  man  was  thrown  out  of  the 
crater.  Although  the  oratory  of  our  country  is  very  inferior  to 
what  might  be  expected  from  the  perfect  freedom  and  powerful 
motive  for  development  of  genius  in  this  province,  it  presents  sev 
eral  examples  of  persons  superior  in  both  force  and  scope,  and 
equal  in  polish,  to  M.  Berryer. 

Nothing  can  be  more  pitiful  than  the  manner  in  which  the  in 
famous  affair  of  Cracow  is  treated  on  all  hands.  There  is  not 
even  the  affectation  of  noble  feeling  about  it.  La  Mennais  and 
his  coadjutors  published  in  La  Reforme  an  honorable  and  manly 
protest,  which  the  public  rushed  to  devour  the  moment  it  was  out 
of  the  press  ;  —  and  no  wonder  !  for  it  was  the  only  crumb  of  com- 


208  THINGS    AND    THOUGHTS    IN    EUROPE. 

fort  offered  to  those  who  have  the  nobleness  to  hope  that  the  con 
federation  of  nations  may  yet  be  conducted  on  the  basis  of  divine 
justice  and  human  right.  Most  men  who  touched  the  subject, 
apparently  weary  of  feigning,  appeared  in  their  genuine  colors  of 
the  calmest,  most  complacent  selfishness.  As  described  by  Kor- 
ner  in  the  prayer  of  such  a  man  :  — 

"  0  God,  save  me, 
My  wife,  child,  and  hearth, 
Then  my  harvest  also ; 
Then  will  I  bless  thee, 
Though  thy  lightning  scorch  to  blackness 
All  the  rest  of  human  kind." 

A  sentiment  which  finds  its  paraphrase  in  the  following  vulgate 
of  our  land  :  — 

"  0  Lord,  save  me, 
My  wife,  child,  and  brother  Sammy, 
Us  four,  and  no  more." 

The  latter  clause,  indeed,  is  not  quite  frankly  avowed  as  yet  by 
politicians. 

It  is  very  amusing  to  be  in  the  Chamber  of  Deputies  when 
some  dull  person  is  speaking.  The  French  have  a  truly  Greek 
vivacity  ;  they  cannot  endure  to  be  bored.  Though  their  conduct 
is  not  very  dignified,  I  should  like  a  corps  of  the  same  kind  of 
sharp-shooters  in  our  legislative  assemblies  when  honorable  gentle 
men  are  addressing  their  constituents  and  not  the  assembly,  re 
peating  in  lengthy,  windy,  clumsy  paragraphs  what  has  been  the 
truism  of  the  newspaper  press  for  months  previous,  wickedly 
wasting  the  time  that  was  given  us  to  learn  something  for  our 
selves,  and  help  our  fellow-creatures.  In  the  French  Chamber,  if 
a  man  who  has  nothing  to  say  ascends  the  tribune,  the  audience- 
room  is  filled  with  the  noise  as  of  myriad  beehives  ;  the  President 
rises  on  his  feet,  and  passes  the  whole  time  of  the  speech  in  taking 
the  most  violent  exercise,  stretching  himself  to  look  imposing,  ring 
ing  his  bell  every  two  minutes,  shouting  to  the  representatives  of 
the  nation  to  be  decorous  and  attentive.  In  vain  :  the  more  he  rings, 
the  more  they  won't  be  still.  I  saw  an  orator  in  this  situation, 


INTERNATIONAL    EXCHANGE    OF    BOOKS.  209 

fighting  against  the  desires  of  the  audience,  as  only  a  Frenchman 
could,  —  certainly  a  man  of  any  other  nation  would  have  died  of 
embarrassment  rather,  —  screaming  out  his  sentences,  stretching 
out  both  arms  with  an  air  of  injured  dignity,  panting,  growing 
red  in  the  face ;  but  the  hubbub  of  voices  never  stopped  an  instant. 
At  last  he  pretended  to  be  exhausted,  stopped,  and  took  out  his 
snuff-box.  Instantly  there  was  a  calm.  He  seized  the  occasion, 
and  shouted  out  a  sentence  ;  but  it  was  the  only  one  he  was  able 
to  make  heard.  They  were  not  to  be  trapped  so  a  second  time. 
When  any  one  is  speaking  that  commands  interest,  as  Berryer 
did,  the  effect  of  this  vivacity  is  very  pleasing,  the  murmur  of 
feeling  that  rushes  over  the  assembly  is  so  quick  and  electric,  — 
light,  too,  as  the  ripple  on  the  lake.  I  heard  Guizot  speak  one 
day  for  a  short  time.  His  manner  is  very  deficient  in  dignity,  — 
has  not  even  the  dignity  of  station  ;  you  see  the  man  of  culti 
vated  intellect,  but  without  inward  strength ;  nor  is  even  his  pan 
oply  of  proof. 

I  saw  in  the  Library  of  the  Deputies  some  books  intended  to 
be  sent  to  our  country  through  M.  Vattemare.  The  French  have 
shown  great  readiness  and  generosity  \vith  regard  to  his  project, 
and  I  earnestly  hope  that  our  country,  if  it  accept  these  tokens  of 
good-will,  will  show  both  energy  and  judgment  in  making  a  re 
turn.  I  do  not  speak  from  myself  alone,  but  from  others  whose 
opinion  is  entitled  to  the  highest  respect,  when  I  say  it  is  not  by 
sending  a  great  quantity  of  documents  of  merely  local  interest, 
that  would  be  esteemed  lumber  in  our  garrets  at  home,  that  you 
pay  respect  to  a  nation  able  to  look  beyond  the  binding  of  a  book. 
If  anything  is  to  be  sent,  let  persons  of  ability  be  deputed  to  make 
a  selection  honorable  to  us  and  of  value  to  the  French.  They 
would  like  documents  from  our  Congress,  —  what  is  important  as 
to  commerce  and  manufactures  ;  they  would  also  like  much  what 
can  throw  light  on  the  history  and  character  of  our  aborigines. 
This  project  of  international  exchange  could  not  be  carried  on  to 
any  permanent  advantage  without  accredited  agents  on  either 
side,  but  in  its  present  shape  it  wears  an  aspect  of  good  feeling 
that  is  valuable,  and  may  give  a  very  desirable  impulse  to  thought 
18* 


210  THINGS    AND    THOUGHTS    IN    EUROPE. 

and  knowledge.  M.  Vattemare  has  given  himself  to  the  plan 
with  indefatigable  perseverance,  and  I  hope  our  country  will  not 
be  backward  to  accord  him  that  furtherance  he  has  known  how  to 
conquer  from  his  countrymen. 

To  his  complaisance  I  was  indebted  for  opportunity  of  a  leis 
urely  survey  of  the  Imprimeri  Roy  ale,  which  gave  me  several 
suggestions  I  shall  impart  at  a  more  favorable  time,  and  of  the 
operations  of  the  Mint  also.  It  was  at  his  request  that  the  Libra 
rian  of  the  Chamber  showed  me  the  manuscripts  of  Rousseau, 
which  are  not  always  seen  by  the  traveller.  He  also  introduced 
me  to  one  of  the  evening  schools  of  the  Freres  Chretiens,  where 
I  saw,  with  pleasure,  how  much  can  be  done  for  the  working 
classes  only  by  evening  lessons.  In  reading  and  writing,  adults 
had  made  surprising  progress,  and  still  more  so  in  drawing.  I 
saw  with  the  highest  pleasure,  excellent  copies  of  good  models, 
made  by  hard-handed  porters  and  errand-boys  with  their  brass 
badges  on  their  breasts.  The  benefits  of  such  an  accomplishment 
are,  in  my  eyes,  of  the  highest  value,  giving  them,  by  insensible 
"degrees,  their  part  in  the  glories  of  art  and  science,  and  in  the  tran 
quil  refinements  of  home.  Visions  rose  in  my  mind  of  all  that 
might  be  done  in  our  country  by  associations  of  men  and  women 
who  have  received  the  benefits  of  literary  culture,  giving  such 
evening  lessons  throughout  our  cities  and  villages.  Should  I  ever 
return,  I  shall  propose  to  some  of  the  like-minded  an  association 
for  such  a  purpose,  and  try  the  experiment  of  one  of  these  schools 
of  Christian  brothers,  with  the  vow  of  disinterestedness,  but  with 
out  the  robe  and  the  subdued  priestly  manner,  which  even  in 
these  men,  some  of  whom  seemed  to  me  truly  good,  I  could  not 
away  with. 

I  visited  also  a  Protestant  institution,  called  that  of  the  Deacon 
esses,  which  pleased  me  in  some  respects.  Beside  the  regular 
Creche,  they  take  the  sick  children  of  the  poor,  and  nurse  them 
till  they  are  well.  They  have  also  a  refuge  like  that  of  the  Home 
which  the  ladies  of  New  York  have  provided,  through  which 
members  of  the  most  unjustly  treated  class  of  society  may  return 
to  peace  and  usefulness.  There  are  institutions  of  the  kind  in 


SCHOOL    FOR    IDIOTS.  211 

Paris,  but  too  formal,  —  and  the  treatment  shows  ignorance  of 
human  nature.  I  see  nothing  that  shows  so  enlightened  a  spirit 
as  the  Home,  a  little  germ  of  good  which  I  hope  flourishes  and 
finds  active  aid  in  the  community.  I  have  collected  many  facts 
with  regard  to  this  suffering  class  of  women,  both  in  England  and 
in  France.  I  have  seen  them  under  the  thin  veil  of  gayety,  and 
in  the  horrible  tatters  of  utter  degradation.  I  have  seen  the  feel 
ings  of  men  with  regard  to  their  condition,  and  the  general  heart- 
lessness  in  women  of  more  favored  and  protected  lives,  which  I 
can  only  ascribe  to  utter  ignorance  of  the  facts.  If  a  proclama 
tion  of  some  of  these  can  remove  it,  I  hope  to  make  such  a  one  in 
the  hour  of  riper  judgment,  and  after  a  more  extensive  survey. 

Sad  as  are  many  features  of  the  time,  we  have  at  least  the  sat 
isfaction  of  feeling  that  if  something  true  can  be  revealed,  if 
something  wise  and  kind  shall  be  perseveringly  tried,  it  stands  a 
chance  of  nearer  success  than  ever  before ;  for  much  light  has 
been  let  in  at  the  windows  of  the  world,  and  many  dark  nooks 
have  been  touched  by  a  consoling  ray.  The  influence  of  such  a 
ray  I  felt  in  visiting  the  School  for  Idiots,  near  Paris,  —  idiots,  so 
called  long  time  by  the  impatience  of  the  crowd ;  yet  there  are 
really  none  such,  but  only  beings  so  below  the  average  standard, 
so  partially  organized,  that  it  is  difficult  for  them  to  learn  or  to 
sustain  themselves.  I  wept  the  whole  time  I  was  in  this  place  a 
shower  of  sweet  and  bitter  tears  ;  of  joy  at  what  had  been  done, 
of  grief  for  all  that  I  and, others  possess  and  cannot  impart  to^these 
little  ones.  But  patience,  and  the  Father  of  All  will  give  them 
all  yet.  A  good  angel  these  of  Paris  have  in  their  master.  I 
have  seen  no  man  that  seemed  to  me  more  worthy  of  envy,  if  one 
could  envy  happiness  so  pure  and  tender.  He  is  a  man  of  seven 
or  eight  and  twenty,  who  formerly  came  there  only  to  give  lessons 
in  writing,  but  became  so  interested  in  his  charge  that  he  came  at 
last  to  live  among  them  and  to  serve  them.  They  sing  the 
hymns  he  writes  for  them,  and  as  I  saw  his  fine  countenance  look 
ing  in  love  on  those  distorted  and  opaque  vases  of  humanity, 
where  he  had  succeeded  in  waking  up  a  faint  flame,  I  thought  his 
heart  could  never  fail  to  be  well  warmed  and  buoyant.  They 


212  THINGS    AND    THOUGHTS    IN    EUROPE. 

sang  well,  both  in  parts  and  in  chorus,  went  through  gymnastic 
exercises  with  order  and  pleasure,  then  stood  in  a  circle  and  kept 
time,  while  several  danced  extremely  well.  One  little  fellow, 
with  whom  the  difficulty  seemed  to  be  that  an  excess  of  nervous 
sensibility  paralyzed  instead  of  exciting  the  powers,  recited  poems 
with  a  touching,  childish  grace  and  perfect  memory.  They  write 
well,  draw  well,  make  shoes,  and  do  carpenter's  work.  One  of 
the  cases  most  interesting  to  the  metaphysician  is  that  of  a  boy, 
brought  there  about  two  years  and  a  half  ago,  at  the  age  of  thir 
teen,  in  a  state  of  brutality,  and  of  ferocious  brutality.  I  read 
the  physician's  report  of  him  at  that  period.  He  discovered  no 
ray  of  decency  or  reason;  entirely  beneath  the  animals  in  'the 
exercise  of  the  senses,  he  discovered  a  restless  fury  beyond  that 
of  beasts  of  prey,  breaking  and  throwing  down  whatever  came  in 
his  way  ;  was  a  voracious  glutton,  and  every  way  grossly  sensual. 
Many  trials  and  vast  patience  were  necessary  before  an  inlet 
could  be  obtained  to  his  mind  ;  then  it  was  through  the  means  of 
mathematics.  He  delights  in  the  figures,  can  draw  and  name 
them  all,  detects  them  by  the  touch  when  blindfolded.  Each 
mental  effort  of  the  kind  he  still  follows  up  with  an  imbecile 
chuckle,  as  indeed  his  face  and  whole  manner  are  still  that  of  an 
idiot ;  but  he  has  been  raised  from  his  sensual  state,  and  can  now 
discriminate  and  name  colors  and  perfumes  which  before  were  all 
alike  to  him.  He  is  partially  redeemed  ;  earlier,  no  doubt,  far 
more  might  have  been  done  for  him,  but  the  degree  of  success  is 
an  earnest  which  must  encourage  to  perseverance  in  the  most 
seemingly  hopeless  cases.  I  thought  sorrowfully  of  the  persons 
of  this  class  whom  I  have  known  in  our  country,  who  might  have 
been  so  raised  and  solaced  by  similar  care.  I  hope  ample  pro 
vision  may  erelong  be  made  for  these  Pariahs  of  the  human 
race  ;  every  case  of  the  kind  brings  its  blessings  with  it,  and  ob 
servation  on  these  subjects  would  be  as  rich  in  suggestion  for  the 
thought,  as  such  acts  of  love  are  balmy  for  the  heart. 


LETTER    XIII. 

Music  in  Paris.  —  Chopin  and  the  Chevalier  Neukomm.  — Adieu  to  Paris.  — 
A  Midnight  Drive  in  a  Diligence.  —  Lyons  and  its  Weavers.  —  Their  Manner 
of  Life.  —  A  Young  Wife.  —  The  Weavers'  Children.  —  The  Banks  of  the 
Rhone.  —  Dreary  Weather  for  Southern  France.  —  The  Old  Roman  Amphi 
theatre  at  Aries.  —  The  Women  of  Aries.  —  Marseilles.  —  Passage  to  Genoa.  — 
Italy.  —  Genoa  and  Naples.  —  Baire.  —  Vesuvius.  —  The  Italian  Character 
at  Home.  —  Passage  from  Leghorn  in  a  Small  Steamer.  —  Narrow  Escape. 
—  A  Confusion  of  Languages.  —  Degradation  of  the  Neapolitans. 

Naples. 

IN  my  last  days  at  Paris  I  was  fortunate  in  hearing  some 
delightful  music.  A  friend  of  Chopin's  took  me  to 'see  him,  and 
I  had  the  pleasure,  which  the  delicacy  of  his  health  makes  a  rare 
one  for  the  public,  of  hearing  him  play.  All  the  impressions  I 
had  received  from  hearing  his  music  imperfectly  performed  were 
justified,  for  it  has  marked  traits,  which  can  be  veiled,  but  not 
travestied;  but  to  feel  it  as  it  merits,  one  must  hear  himself; 
only  a  person  as  exquisitely  organized  as  he  can  adequately  ex 
press  these  subtile  secrets  of  the  creative  spirit. 

It  was  with  a  very  different  sort  of  pleasure  that  I  listened  to 
the  Chevalier  Neukomm,  the  celebrated  composer  of  "David," 
w^hich  has  been  so  popular  in  our  country.  I  heard  him  impro 
vise  on  the  orgue  expressif,  and  afterward  on  a  great  organ 
which  has  just  been  built  here  by  Cavaille  for  the  cathedral  of 
Ajaccio.  Full,  sustained,  ardent,  yet  exact,  the  stream  of  his 
thought  bears  with  it  the  attention  of  hearers  of  all  characters, 
as  his  character,  full  of  bonhommie,  open,  friendly,  animated,  and 
sagacious,  would  seem  to  have  something  to  present  for  the  affec 
tion  and  esteem  of  all  kinds  of  men. 

Chopin  is  the   minstrel,  Neukomm  the  orator  of  music:  we 


214  THINGS    AND    THOUGHTS    IN    EUROPE. 

want  them  both, — the  mysterious  whispers  and  the  resolute 
pleadings  from  the  better  world,  which  calls  us  not  to  slumber 
here,  but  press  daily  onward  to  claim  our  heritage. 

Paris  !  I  was  sad  to  leave  thee,  thou  wonderful  focus,  where 
ignorance  ceases  to  be  a  pain,  because  there  we  find  such  means 
daily  to  lessen  it.  It  is  the  only  school  where  I  ever  found  abun 
dance  of  teachers  who  could  bear  being  examined  by  the  pupil  in 
their  special  branches.  I  must  go  to  this  school  more  before  T 
again  cross  the  Atlantic,  where  often  for  years  I  have  carried 
about  some  trifling  question  without  finding  the  person  who  could 
answer  it.  Really  deep  questions  we  must  all  answer  for  our 
selves  ;  the  more  the  pity,  then,  that  we  get  not  quickly  through 
with  a  crowd  of  details,  where  the  experience  of  others  might 
accelerate  our  progress. 

Leaving  by  diligence,  we  pursued  our  way  from  twelve  o'clock 
on  Thursday  till  twelve  at  night  on  Friday,  thus  having  a  large 
share  of  magnificent  moonlight  upon  the  unknown  fields  we  were 
traversing.  At  Chalons  we  took  boat  and  reached  Lyons  betimes 
that  afternoon.  So  soon  as  refreshed,  we  sallied  out  to  visit  some 
of  the  garrets  of  the  weavers.  As  we  were  making  inquiries 
about  these,  a  sweet  little  girl  who  heard  us  offered  to  be  our 
guide.  She  led  us  by  a  weary,  winding  way,  whose  pavement 
was  much  easier  for  her  feet  in  their  wooden  sabots  than  for  ours  in 
Paris  shoes,  to  the  top  of  a  hill,  from  which  we  saw  for  the  first  time 
"  the  blue  and  arrowy  Rhone."  Entering  the  high  buildings  on 
this  high  hill,  I  found  each  chamber  tenanted  by  a  family  of 
weavers,  —  all  weavers ;  wife,  husband,  sons,  daughters,  —  from 
nine  years  old  upward,  —  each  was  helping.  On  one  side  were 
the  looms ;  nearer  the  door  the  cooking  apparatus ;  the  beds  were 
shelves  near  the  ceiling :  they  climbed  up  to  them  on  ladders. 
My  sweet  little  girl  turned  out  to  be  a  wife  of  six  or  seven  years' 
standing,  with  two  rather  sickly-looking  children ;  she  seemed  to 
have  the  greatest  comfort  that  is  possible  amid  the  perplexities  of 
a  hard  and  anxious  lot,  to  judge  by  the  proud  and  affectionate 
manner  in  which  she  always  said  "  mon  mari"  and  by  the  cour 
teous  gentleness  of  his  manner  toward  her.  She  seemed,  indeed, 


LYONS  AND  ITS  WEAVERS.  215 

to  be  one  of  those  persons  on  whom  "  the  Graces  have  smiled 
in  their  cradle,"  and  to  whom  a  natural  loveliness  of  character 
makes  the  world  as  easy  as  it  can  be  made  while  the  evil  spirit  is 
still  so  busy  choking  the  wheat  with  tares.  I  admired  her 
graceful  manner  of  introducing  us  into  those  dark  little  rooms, 
and  she  was  affectionately  received  by  all  her  acquaintance.  But 
alas !  that  voice,  by  nature  of  such  bird-like  vivacity,  rep  sated 
again  and  again,  "  Ah  !  we  are  all  very  unhappy  now."  "  Do 
you  sing  together,  or  go  to  evening  schools  ?  "  "  We  have  not  the 
heart.  When  we  have  a  piece  of  work,  we  do  not  stir  till  it  is 
finished,  and  then  we  run  to  try  and  get  another;  but  often  we 
have  to  wait  idle  for  weeks.  It  grows  worse  and  worse,  and  they 
say  it  is  not  likely  to  be  any  better.  We  can  think  'of  nothing, 
but  whether  we  shall  be  able  to  pay  our  rent.  Ah  !  the  work 
people  are  very  unhappy  now."  This  poor,  lovely  little  girl,  at 
an  age  when  the  merchant's  daughters  of  Boston  and  New  York 
are  just  gaining  their  first  experiences  of  "  society,"  knew  to  a 
farthing  the  price  of  every  article  of  food  and  clothing  that  is 
wanted  by  such  a  household.  Her  thought  by  day  and  her  dream 
by  night  was,  whether  she  should  long  be  able  to  procure  a  scanty 
supply  of  these,  and  Nature  had  gifted  her  with  precisely  those 
qualities,  which,  unembarrassed  by  care,  would  have  made  her 
and  all  she  loved  really  happy  ;  and  she  was  fortunate  now,  com 
pared  with  many  of  her  sex  in  Lyons,  —  of  whom  a  gentleman 
who  knows  the  class  well  said  :  "  When  their  work  fails,  they  have 
no  resource  except  in  the  sale  of  their  persons.  There  are  but 
these  two  ways  open  to  them,  weaving  or  prostitution,  to  gain 
their  bread."  And  there  are  those  who  dare  to  say  that  such 
a  state  of  things  is  well  enough,  and  what  Providence  intended  for 
man,  —  who  call  those  who  have  hearts  to  suffer  at  the  sight, 
energy  and  zeal  to  seek  its  remedy,  visionaries  and  fanatics !  To 
themselves  be  woe,  who  have  eyes  and  see  not,  ears  and  hear  not, 
the  convulsions  and  sobs  of  injured  Humanity! 

My  little  friend  told  me  she  had  nursed  both  her  children,  — 
though  almost  all  of  her  class  are  obliged  to  put  their  children 
out  to  nurse ;  "  but,"  said  she,  "  they  are  brought  back  so  little, 


216  THINGS    AND    THOUGHTS    IN    EUROPE. 

so  miserable,  that  I  resolved,  if  possible,  to  keep  mine  with  me." 
Next  day  in  the  steamboat  I  read  a  pamphlet  by  a  physician  of 
Lyons  in  which  he  recommends  the  establishment  of  Creches,  not 
merely  like  those  of  Paris,  to  keep  the  children  by  day,  but  to 
provide  wet-nurses  for  them.  Thus,  by  the  infants  receiving 
nourishment  from,  more  healthy  persons,  and  who  under  the 
supervision  of  directors  would  treat  them  well,  he  hopes  to 
counteract  the  tendency  to  degenerate  in  this  race  of  sedentary 
workers,  and  to  save  the  mothers  from  too  heavy  a  burden  of 
care  and  labor,  without  breaking  the  bond  between  them  and  their 
children,  whom,  under  such  circumstances,  they  could  visit  often, 
and  see  them  taken  care  of  as  they,  brought  up  to  know  noth 
ing  except  how  to  weave,  cannot  take  care  of  them.  Here,  again, 
how  is  one  reminded  of  Fourier's  observations  and  plans,  still 
more  enforced  by  the  recent  developments  at  Manchester  as  to 
the  habit  of  feeding  children  on  opium,  which  has  grown  out  of 
the  position  of  things  there. 

Descending  next  clay  to  Avignon,  I  had  the  mortification  of 
finding  the  banks  of  the  Rhone  still  sheeted  with  white,  and  there 
waded  through  melting  snow  to  Laura's  tomb.  We  did  not  see 
Mr.  Dickens's  Tower  and  Goblin,  —  it  was  too  late  in  the  day,  — 
but  we  saw  a  snowball  fight  between  two  bands  of  the  military 
in  the  castle  yard  that  was  gay  enough  to  make  a  goblin  laugh. 
And  next  day  on  to  Aries,  still  snow,  —  snow  and  cutting  blasts 
in  the  South  of  France,  where  everybody  had  promised  us  bird- 
songs  and  blossoms  to  console  us  for  the  dreary  winter  of  Paris. 
At  Aries,  indeed,  I  saw  the  little  saxifrage  blossoming  on  the 
steps  of  the  Amphitheatre,  and  fruit-trees  in  flower  amid  the 
tombs.  Here  for  the  first  time  I  saw  the  great  handwriting  of 
the  Romans  in  its  proper  medium  of  stone,  and  I  was  content. 
It  looked  as  grand  and  solid  as  I  expected,  as  if  life  in  those  days 
was  thought  worth  the  having,  the  enjoying,  and  the  using.  The 
sunlight  was  warm  this  day ;  it  lay  deliciously  still  and  calm 
upon  the  ruins.  One  old  woman  sat  knitting  where  t\venty-h've 
thousand  persons  once  gazed  down  in  fierce  excitement  on  the 
fights  of  men  and  lions.  Coining  back,  we  were  refreshed  all 


CLIMATE    OF    ITALY.  217 

through  the  streets  by  the  sight  of  the  women  of  Aries.  They 
answered  to  their  reputation  for  beauty ;  tall,  erect,  and  noble, 
with  high  and  dignified  features,  and  a  full,  earnest  gaze  of  the 
eye,  they  looked  as  if  the  Eagle  still  waved  its  wings  over  their 
city.  Even  the  very  old  women  still  have  a  degree  of  beauty, 
because  when  the  colors  are  all  faded,  and  the  skin  wrinkled,  the 
face  retains  this  dignity  of  outline.  The  men  do  not  share  in 
these  characteristics ;  some  priestess,  well  ^beloved  of  the  powers 
of  old  religion,  must  have  called  down  an  especial  blessing  on  her 
sex  in  this  town. 

Hence  to  Marseilles,  —  where  is  little  for  the  traveller  to  see, 
except  the  mixture  of  Oriental  blood  in  the  crowd  of  the  streets. 
Thence  by  steamer  to  Genoa.  Of  this  transit,  he  who  has  been 
on  the  Mediterranean  in  a  stiff  breeze  well  understands  I  can 
have  nothing  to  say,  except  "  I  suffered."  It  was  all  one  dull, 
tormented  dream  to  me,  and,  I  believe,  to  most  of  the  ship's  com 
pany,  —  a  dream  too  of  thirty  hours'  duration,  instead  of  the 
promised  sixteen. 

The  excessive  beauty  of  Genoa  is  well  known,  and  the  impres 
sion  upon  the  eye  alone  was  correspondent  with  what  I  expected ; 
but,  alas  !  the  weather  was  still  so  cold  I  could  not  realize  that  I 
had  actually  touched  those  shores  to  which  I  had  looked  forward 
all  my  life,  where  it  seemed  that  the  heart  would  expand,  and  the 
whole  nature  be  turned  to  delight.  Seen  by  a  cutting  wind,  the 
marble  palaces,  the  gardens,  the  magnificent  water-view  of  Genoa, 
failed  to  charm,  —  "I  saw,  not  felt,  how  beautiful  they  were."  Only 
at  Naples  have  I  found  my  Italy,  and  here  not  till  after  a  week's 
waiting,  —  not  till  I  began  to  believe  that  all  I  had  heard  in  praise 
of  the  climate  of  Italy  was  fable,  and  that  there  is  really  no  spring 
anywhere  except  in  the  imagination  of  poets.  For  the  first  week 
was  an  exact  copy  of  the  miseries  of  a  New  England  spring ;  a 
bright  sun  came  for  an  hour  or  two  in  the  morning,  just  to  coax 
you  forth  without  your  cloak,  and  then  came  up  a  villanous,  hor 
rible  wind,  exactly  like  the  worst  east  wind  of  Boston,  breaking 
the  heart,  racking  the  brain,  and  turning  hope  and  fancy  to  an 
irrevocable  green  and  yellow  hue,  in  lieu  of  their  native  rose. 
19 


218  THINGS    AND    THOUGHTS    IN    EUROPE. 

However,  here  at  Naples  I  have  at  last  found  my  Italy;  I  have 
passed  through  the  Grotto  of  Pausilippo,  visited  Cuma,  Baias,  and 
Capri,  ascended  Vesuvius,  and  found  all  familiar,  except  the 
sense  of  enchantment,  of  sweet  exhilaration,  this  scene  conveys. 

" Behold  how  brightly  breaks  the  morning!  " 

and  yet  all  new,  as  if  never  yet  described,  for  Nature  here,  most 
prolific  and  exuberant  in  her  gifts,  has  touched  them  all  with  a 
charm  unhackneyed,  unhackneyable,  which  the  boots  of  English 
dandies  cannot  trample  out,  nor  the  raptures  of  sentimental  tour 
ists  daub  or  fade.  Baice  had  still  a  hid  divinity  for  me,  Vesuvius 
a  fresh  baptism  of  fire,  and  Sorrento  —  0  Sorrento  was  beyond 
picture,  beyond  poesy,  for  the  greatest  Artist  had  been  at  work 
there  in  a  temper  beyond  the  reach  of  human  art. 

Beyond  this,  reader,  my  old  friend  and  valued  acquaintance  on 
other  themes,  I  shall  tell  you  nothing  of  Naples,  for  it  is  a  thing 
apart  in  the  journey  of  life,  and,  if  represented  at  all,  should  be  so 
in  a  fairer  form  than  offers  itself  at  present.  Now  the  actual  life 
here  is  over,  I  am  going  to  Rome,  and  expect  to  see  that  fane  of 
thought  the  last  day  of  this  week. 

At  Genoa  and  Leghorn,  I  saw  for  the  first  time  Italians  in  their 
homes.  Very  attractive  I  found  them,  charming  women,  refined 
men,  eloquent  and  courteous.  If  the  cold  wind  hid  Italy,  it 
could  not  the  Italians.  A  little  group  of  faces,  each  so  full  of 
character,  dignity,  and,  what  is  so  rare  in  an  American  face,  the 
capacity  for  pure,  exalting  passion,  will  live  ever  in  my  memory, 
—  the  fulfilment  of  a  hope  !  » 

We  started  from  Leghorn  in  an  English  boat,  highly  recom 
mended,  and  as  little  deserving  of  such  praise  as  many  another 
bepuffed  article.  In  the  middle  of  a  fine,  clear  night,  she  was  run 
into  by  the  mail  steamer,  which  all  on  deck  clearly  saw  coming 
upon  her,  for  no  reason  that  could  be  ascertained,  except  that  the 
man  at  the  wheel  said  he  had  turned  the  right  way,  and  it  never 
seemed  to  occur  to  him  that  he  could  change  when  he  found  the 
other  steamer  had  taken  the  same  direction.  To  be  sure,  the 
other  steamer  was  equally  careless,  but  as  a  change  on  our  part 


PASSAGE    FROM    LEGHORN.  219 

would  have  prevented  an  accident  that  narrowly  missed  sending 
us  all  to  the  bottom,  it  hardly  seemed  worth  while  to  persist,  for 
the  sake  of  convicting  them  of  error. 

Neither  the  Captain  nor  any  of  his  people  spoke  French,  and 
we  had  been  much  amused  before  by  the  chambermaid  acting  out 
the  old  story  of  "  Will  you  lend  me  the  loan  of  a  gridiron  ?  "  A 
Polish  lady  was  on  board,  with  a  French  waiting-maid,  who  un 
derstood  no  word  of  English.  The  daughter  of  John  Bull  would 
speak  to  the  lady  in  English,  and,  when  she  found  it  of  no  use, 
would  say  imperiously  to  the  suivante,  "  Go  and  ask  your  mis 
tress  what  she  will  have  for  breakfast."  And  now  when  I  went 
on  deck  there  was  a  parley  between  the  two  steamers,  which  the 
Captain  was  obliged  to  manage  by  such  interpreters  as  he  could 
find ;  it  was  a  long  and  confused  business.  It  ended  at  last  in 
the  Neapolitan  steamer  taking  us  in  tow  for  an  inglorious  return 
to  Leghorn.  When  she  had  decided  upon  this  she  swept  round, 
her  lights  glancing  like  sagacious  eyes,  to  take  us.  The  sea  was 
calm  as  a  lake,  the  sky  full  of  stars ;  she  made  a  long  detour,  with 
her  black  hull,  her  smoke  and  lights,  which  look  so  pretty  at  night, 
then  came  round  to  us  like  the  bend  of  an  arm  embracing.  It  was 
a  pretty  picture,  worth  the  stop  and  the  fright,  —  perhaps  the  loss 
of  twenty -four  hours,  though  I  did  not  think  so  at  the  time. 

At  Leghorn  we  changed  the  boat,  and,  retracing  our  steps,  came 
now  at  last  to  Naples,  —  to  this  priest-ridden,  misgoverned,  full  of 
dirty,  degraded  men  and  women,  yet  still  most  lovely  Naples,  — 
of  which  the  most  I  can  say  is  that  the  divine  aspect  of  nature 
can  make  you  forget  the  situation  of  man  in  this  region,  which 
was  surely  intended  for  him  as  a  princely  child,  angelic  in  virtue, 
genius,  and  beauty,  and  not  as  a  begging,  vermin-haunted,  image- 
kissing  Lazzarone. 


LETTER    XIV. 

Italy.  —  Misfortune  of  Travellers.  —  English  Travellers.  —  Cockneyism.  —  Mac- 
donald  the  Sculptor.  —  British  Aristocracy.  —  Tenerani.  —  Wolff's  Diana  and 
Seasons.  —  Gott.  —  Crawford.  —  Overbeck  the  Painter.  —  American  Painters 
in  Rome.  —  Terry.  —  Cranch.  —  Hicks.  —  Remains  of  the  Antique.  —  Italian 
Painters.  —  Domenichino  and  Titian.  —  Frescos  of  Raphael.  —  Michel  An- 
gelo.  — The  Colosseum.  —  Holy  Week.— St.  Peter's.— Pius  IX.  and  his 
Measures.  —  Popular  Enthusiasm.  —  Public  Dinner  at  the  Baths  of  Titus.  — 
Austrian  Jealousy. —  The  "  Contemporaneo." 

Rome,  May,  1847. 

THERE  is  very  little  that  I  can  like  to  write  about  Italy.  Italy 
is  beautiful,  worthy  to  be  loved  and  embraced,  not  talked  about. 
Yet  I  remember  well  that,  when  afar,  I  liked  to  read  what  was 
written  about  her ;  now,  all  thought  of  it  is  very  tedious. 

The  traveller  passing  along  the  beaten  track,  vetturinoed  from 
inn  to  inn,  ciceroned  from  gallery  to  gallery,  thrown,  through  in 
dolence,  want  of  tact,  or  ignorance  of  the  language,  too  much  into 
the  society  of  his  compatriots,  sees  the  least  possible  of  the  coun 
try;  fortunately,  it  is  impossible  to  avoid  seeing  a  great  deal. 
The  great  features  of  the  part  pursue  and  fill  the  eye. 

Yet  I  find  that  it  is  quite  out  of  the  question  to  know  Italy ;  to 
say  anything  of  her  that  is  full  and  sweet,  so  as  to  convey  any 
idea  of  her  spirit,  without  long  residence,  and  residence  in  the  dis 
tricts  untouched  by  the  scorch  and  dust  of  foreign  invasion  (the 
invasion  of  the  dilettanti  I  mean),  and  without  an  intimacy  of  feel 
ing,  an  abandonment  to  the  spirit  of  the  place,  impossible  to  most 
Americans.  They  retain  too  much  of  their  English  blood  ;  and  the 
travelling  English,  as  a  class,  seem  to  me  the  most  unseeing  of  all 
possible  animals.  There  are  exceptions  ;  for  instance,  the  per 
ceptions  and  pictures  of  Browning  seem  as  delicate  and  just  here 
on  the  spot  as  they  did  at  a  distance  ;  but,  take  them  as  a  class, 


STUDIO    OF   MACDONALD.  221 

they  have  the  vulgar  familiarity  of  Mrs.  Trollope  without  her 
vivacity,  the  cockneyism  of  Dickens  without  his  graphic  power 
and  love  of  the  odd  corners  of  human  nature.  I  admired  the  Eng 
lish  at  home  in  their  island  ;  I  admired  their  honor,  truth,  practi 
cal  intelligence,  persistent  power.  But  they  do  not  look  well  in 
Italy ;  they  are  not  the  figures  for  this  landscape.  I  am  indig 
nant  at  the  contempt  they  have  presumed  to  express  for  the  faults 
of  our  semi-barbarous  state.  What  is  the  vulgarity  expressed  in 
our  tobacco-chewing,  and  way  of  eating  eggs,  compared  to  that 
which  elbows  the  Greek  marbles,  guide-book  in  hand,  —  chatters 
and  sneers  through  the  Miserere  of  the  Sistine  Chapel,  beneath 
the  very  glance  of  Michel  Angelo's  Sibyls,  —  praises  St.  Peter's 
as  "  nice?  —  talks  of  "  managing  "  the  Colosseum  by  moonlight, 
—  and  snatches  "  bits  "  for  a  "  sketch  "  from  the  sublime  silence 
of  the  Campagna. 

Yet  I  was  again  reconciled  with  them,  the  other  day,  in  visiting 
the .  studio  of  Macdonald.  There  I  found  a  complete  gallery  of 
the  aristocracy  of  England ;  for  each  lord  and  lady  who  visits 
Rome  considers  it  a  part  of  the  ceremony  to  sit  to  him  for 
a  bust.  And  what  a  fine  race  !  how  worthy  the  marble  ! 
what  heads  of  orators,  statesmen,  gentlemen  !  of  women  chaste, 
grave,  resolute,  and  tender !  Unfortunately,  they  do  not  look 
as  well  in  flesh  and  blood  ;  then  they  show  the  habitual  coldness 
of  their  temperament,  the  habitual  subservience  to  frivolous  con 
ventionalities.  They  need  some  great  occasion,  some  exciting  cri 
sis,  in  order  to  make  them  look  as  free  and  dignified  as  these  busts  ; 
yet  is  the  beauty  there,  though  imprisoned  and  clouded,  and  such 
a  crisis  would  show  us  more  then  one  Boadicea,  more  than  one 
Alfred.  Tenerani  has  just  completed  a  statue  which  is  highly 
spoken  of;  it  is  called  the  Angel  of  the  Resurrection.  I  was  not 
so  fortunate  as  to  find  it  in  his  studio.  In  that  of  Wolff  I  saw  a 
Diana,  ordered  by  the  Emperor  of  Russia.  It  is  modern  and 
sentimental ;  as  different  from  the  antique  Diana  as  the  trance  of 
a  novel-read  young  lady  of  our  day  from  the  thrill  with  which  tile 
ancient  shepherds  deprecated  the  magic  pervasions  of  Hecate,  but 
very  beautiful  and  exquisitely  wrought.  He  has  also  lately  fin- 
19* 


THINGS    AND    THOUGHTS    IN    EUROPE. 

ished  the  Four  Seasons,  represented  as  children.  Of  these,  Win 
ter  is  graceful  and  charming. 

Among  the  sculptors  I  delayed  longest  in  the  work-rooms  of 
Gott.  I  found  his  groups  of  young  figures  connected  with  ani 
mals  very  refreshing  after  the  grander  attempts  of  the  present 
time.  They  seem  real  growths  of  his  habitual  mind,  —  fruits  of 
Nature,  full  of  joy  and  freedom.  His  spaniels  and  other  frisky 
poppets  would  please  Apollo  far  better  than  most  of  the  marble 
nymphs  and  muses  of  the  present  day. 

Our  Crawford  has  just  finished  a  bust  of  Mrs.  Crawford,  which 
is  extremely  beautiful,  full  of  grace  and  innocent  sweetness.  All 
its  accessaries  are  charming,  —  the  wreaths,  the  arrangement  of 
drapery,  the  stuff  of  which  the  robe  is  made.  I  hope  it  will  be 
much  seen  on  its  arrival  in  New  York.  He  has  also  an  Hcrodias 
in  the  clay,  which  is  individual  in  expression,  and  the  figure  of 
distinguished  elegance.  I  liked  the  designs  of  Crawford  better 
than  those  of  Gibson,  who  is  estimated  as  highest  in  the  profession 
now. 

Among  the  studios  of  the  European  painters  I  have  visited 
only  that  of  Overbeck.  It  is  well  known  in  the  United  States 
what  his  pictures  are.  I  have  much  to  say  at  a  more  favorable 
time  of  what  they  represented  to  me.  He  himself  looks  as  if  he 
had  just  stepped  out  of  one  of  them,  —  a  lay  monk,  with  a  pious 
eye  and  habitual  morality  of  thought  which  limits  every  gesture. 

Painting  is  not  largely  represented  here  by  American  artists 
at  present.  Terry  has  two  pleasing  pictures  on  the  easel :  one  is 
a  costume  picture  of  Italian  life,  such  as  I  saw  it  myself,  enchant 
ed  beyond  my  hopes,  on  coming  to  Naples  on  a  day  of  grand  fes 
tival  in  honor  of  Santa  Agatha.  Cranch  sends  soon  to  America  a 
picture  of  the  Campagna,  such  as  I  saw  it  on  my  first  entrance 
into  Rome,  all  light  and  calmness  ;  Hicks,  a  charming  half-length 
of  an  Italian  girl,  holding  a  mandolin  :  it  will  be  sure  to  please. 
His  pictures  are  full  of  life,  and  give  the  promise  of  some  real 
achievement  in  Art. 

Of  the  fragments  of  the  great  time,  I  have  now  seen  nearly  all 
that  are  treasured  up  here  :  I  have,  however,  as  yet  nothing  of 


ITALIAN   PAINTERS.  223 

consequence  to  say  of  them.  I  find  that  others  have  often  given 
good  hints  as  to  how  they  look  ;  and  as  to  what  they  are,  it  can 
only  be  known  by  approximating  to  the  state  of  soul  out  of  which 
they  grew.  They  should  not  be  described,  but  reproduced. 
They  are  many  and  precious,  yet  is  there  not  so  much  of  high 
excellence  as  I  had  expected :  they  will  not  float  the  heart  on  a 
boundless  sea  of  feeling,  like  the  starry  night  on  our  Western 
prairies.  Yet  I  love  much  to  see  the  galleries  of  marbles,  even 
when  there  are  not  many  separately  admirable,  amid  the  cypresses 
and  ilexes  of  Roman  villas  ;  and  a  picture  that  is  good  at  all  looks 
very  good  in  one  of  these  old  palaces. 

The  Italian  painters  whom  I  have  learned  most  to  appreciate, 
since  I  came  abroad,  are  Domenichino  and  Titian.  Of  others  one 
may  learn  something  by  copies  and  engravings  :  but  not  of  these. 
The  portraits  of  Titian  look  upon  me  from  the  walls  things  new 
and  strange.  They  are  portraits  of  men  such  as  I  have  not 
known.  In  his  picture,  absurdly  called  Sacred  and  Profane 
Love,  in  the  Borghese  Palace,  one  of  the  figures  has  developed 
my  powers  of  gazing  to  an  extent  unknown  before. 

Domenichino  seems  very  unequal  in  his  pictures  ;  but  when  he 
is  grand  and  free,  the  energy  of  his  genius  perfectly  satisfies. 
The  frescos  of  Caracci  and  his  scholars  in  the  Farnese  Palace 
have  been  to  me  a  source  of  the  purest  pleasure,  and  I  do  not  re 
member  to  have  heard  of  them.  I  loved  Guercino  much  before 
I  came  here,  but  I  have  looked  too  much  at  his  pictures  and  begin 
to  grow  sick  of  them  ;  he  is  a  very  limited  genius.  Leonardo  I 
cannot  yet  like  at  all,  but  I  suppose  the  pictures  are  good  for  some 
people  to  look  at ;  they  show  a  wonderful  deal  of  study  and 
thought.  That  is  not  what  I  can  best  appreciate  in  a  work  of  art- 
I  hate  to  see  the  marks  'of  them.  I  want  a  simple  and  direct  ex 
pression  of  soul.  For  the  rest,  the  ordinary  cant  of  connoisseur- 
ship  on  these  matters  seems  in  Italy  even  more  detestable  than 
elsewhere. 

I  have  not  yet  so  sufficiently  recovered  from  my  pain  at  finding 
the  frescos  of  Raphael  in  such  a  state,  as  to  be  able  to  look  at  them 
happily.  I  had  heard  of  their  condition,  but  could  not  realize  it. 


224  THINGS    AND    THOUGHTS    IN    EUROPE. 

However,  I  have  gained  nothing  by  seeing  his  pictures  in  oil,  which 
are  well  preserved.  I  find  I  had  before  the  full  impression  of  his 
genius.  Michel  Angelo's  frescos,  in  like  manner,  I  seem  to  have 
seen  as  far  as  I  can.  But  it  is  not  the  same  with  the  sculptures :  my 
thought  had  not  risen  to  the  height  of  the  Moses.  It  is  the  only 
thing  in  Europe,  so  far,  which  has  entirely  outgone  my  hopes. 
Michel  Angelo  was  my  demigod  before ;  but  I  find  no  offering 
worthy  to  cast  at  the  feet  of  his  Moses.  I  like  much,  too,  his 
Christ.  It  is  a  refreshing  contrast  with  all  the  other  representa 
tions  of  the  same  subject.  I  like  it  even  as  contrasted  with  Ra 
phael's  Christ  of  the  Transfiguration,  or  that  of  the  cartoon  of 
Feed  my  Lambs. 

I  have  heard  owls  hoot  in  the  Colosseum  by  moonlight,  and 
they  spoke  more  to  the  purpose  than  I  ever  heard  any  other  voice 
upon  that  subject.  I  have  seen  all  the  pomps  and  shows  of  Holy 
"Week  in  the  church  of  St.  Peter,  and  found  them  less  imposing 
than  an  habitual  acquaintance  with  the  place,  with  processions  of 
monks  and  nuns  stealing  in  now  and  then,  or  the  swell  of  vespers 
from  some  side  chapel.  I  have  ascended  the  dome,  and  seen 
thence  Rome  and  its  Campagna,  its  villas  with  their  cypresses  and 
pines  serenely  sad  as  is  nothing  else  in  the  world,  and  the  foun 
tains  of  the  Vatican  garden  gushing  hard  by.  I  have  been  in  the 
Subterranean  to  see  a  poor  little  boy  introduced,  much  to  his  sur 
prise,  to  the  bosom  of  the  Church  ;  and  then  I  have  seen  by 
torch-light  the  stone  popes  where  they  lie  on  their  tombs,  and  the 
old  mosaics,  and  virgins  with  gilt  caps.  It  is  all  rich,  and  full,  — 
very  impressive  in  its  way.  St.  Peter's  must  be  to  each  one  a 
separate  poem. 

The  ceremonies  of  the  Church  have  been  numerous  and  splen 
did  during  our  stay  here  ;  and  they  borrow  unusual  interest  from 
the  love  and  expectation  inspired  by  the  present  Pontiff.  He  is 
a  man  of  noble  and  good  aspect,  who,  it  is  easy  to  see,  has  set  his 
heart  upon  doing  something  solid  for  the  benefit  of  man.  But 
pensively,  too,  must  one  feel  how  hampered  and  inadequate  are 
the  means  at  his  command  to  accomplish  these  ends.  The  Ital 
ians  do  not  feel  it,  but  deliver  themselves,  with  all  the  vivacity  of 


PIUS    IX.    AND    HIS    MEASURES.  225 

their  temperament,  to  perpetual  hurras,  vivas,  rockets,  and  torch 
light  processions.  I  often  think  how  grave  and  sad  must  the 
Pope  feel,  as  he  sits  alone  and  hears  all  this  noise  of  expectation. 

A  week  or  two  ago  the  Cardinal  Secretary  published  a  circular 
inviting  the  departments  to  measures  which  would  give  the  people 
a  sort  of  representative  council.  Nothing  could  seem  more  lim 
ited  than  this  improvement,  but  it  was  a  great  measure  for  Rome. 
At  night  the  Corso  in  which  we  live  was  illuminated,  and  many 
thousands  passed  through  it  in  a  torch-bearing  procession.  I  saw 
them  first  assembled  in  the  Piazza  del  Popolo,  forming  around  its 
fountain  a  great  circle  of  fire.  Then,  as  a  river  of  fire,  they 
streamed  slowly  through  the  Corso,  on  their  way  to  the  Quirinal 
to  thank  the  Pope,  upbearing  a  banner  on  which  the  edict  was 
printed.  The  stream  of  fire  advanced  slowly,  with  a  perpetual 
surge-like  sound  of  voices ;  the  torches  flashed  on  the  animated 
Italian  faces.  I  have  never  seen  anything  finer.  Ascending  the 
Quirinal  they  made  it  a  mount  of  light.  Bengal  fires  were  thrown 
up,  which  cast  their  red  and  white  light  on  the  noble  Greek  fig 
ures  of  men  and  horses  that  reign  over  it.  '  The  Pope  appeared 
on  his  balcony ;  the  crowd  shouted  three  vivas ;  he  extended  his 
arms  ;  the  crowd  fell  on  their  knees  and  received  his  benediction ; 
he  retired,  and  the  torches  were  extinguished,  and  the  multitude 
dispersed  in  an  instant. 

The  same  week  came  the  natal  day  of  Rome.  A  great  dinner 
was  given  at  the  Baths  of  Titus,  in  the  open  air.  The  company 
was  on  the  grass  in  the  area ;  the  music  at  one  end ;  boxes  filled 
with  the  handsome  Roman  women  occupied  the  other  sides.  It 
was  a  new  thing  here,  this  popular  dinner,  and  the  Romans  greet 
ed  it  in  an  intoxication  of  hope  and  pleasure.  Sterbini,  author  of 
"  The  Vestal,"  presided :  many  others,  like  him,  long  time  exiled 
and  restored  to  their  country  by  the  present  Pope,  were  at  the 
tables.  The  Colosseum  and  triumphal  arches  were  in  sight ;  an 
effigy  of  the  Roman  wolf  with  her  royal  nursling  was  erected  on 
high  ;  the  guests,  with  shouts  and  music,  congratulated  themselves 
on  the  possession,  in  Pius  IX.,  of  a  new  and  nobler  founder  for 
another  state.  Among  the  speeches  that  of  the  Marquis  d'  Aze- 


226  THINGS    AND    THOUGHTS    IN    EUROPE. 

glio,  a  man  of  literary  note  in  Italy,  and  son-in-law  of  Manzoni, 
contained  this  passage  (he  was  sketching  the  past  history  of 
Italy):- 

"  The  crown  passed  to  the  head  of  a  German  monarch  ;  but  he 
wore  it  not  to  the  benefit,  but  the  injury,  of  Christianity,  —  of  the 
world.  The  Emperor  Henry  was  a  tyrant  who  wearied  out  the 
patience  of  God.  God  said  to  Rome,  '  I  give  you  the  Emperor 
Henry';  and  from  these  hills  that  surround  us,  Hiklebrand,  Pope 
Gregory  VII.,  raised  his  austere  and  potent  voice  to  say  to  the 
Emperor,  *  God  did  not  give  you  Italy  that  you  might  destroy 
her,'  and  Italy,  Germany,  Europe,  saw  her  butcher  prostrated  at 
the  feet  of  Gregory  in  penitence.  Italy,  Germany,  Europe,  had 
then  kindled  in  the  heart  the  first  spark  of  liberty." 

The  narrative  of  the  dinner  passed  the  censor,  and  was  pub 
lished:  the  Ambassador  of  Austria  read  it,  and  found,  with  a 
modesty  and  candor  truly  admirable,  that  this  passage  was  meant 
to  allude  to  his  Emperor.  He  must  take  his  passports,  if  such 
home  thrusts  are  to  be  made.  And  so  the  paper  was  seized,  and 
the  account  of  the  dinner  only  told  from  mouth  to  mouth,  from 
those  who  had  already  read  it.  Also  the  idea  of  a  dinner  for  the 
Pope's  fete-day  is  abandoned,  lest  something  too  frank  should 
a'gain  be  said  ;  and  they  tell  me  here,  with  a  laugh,  "  I  fancy  you 
have  assisted  at  the  first  and  last  popular  dinner."  Thus  we  may 
see  that  the  liberty  of  Rome  does  not  yet  advance  with  seven- 
leagued  boots ;  and  the  new  Romulus  will  need  to  be  prepared  for 
deeds  at  least  as  bold  as  his  predecessor,  if  he  is  to  open  a  new 
order  of  things. 

I  cannot  well  wind  up  my  gossip  on  this  subject  better  than  by 
translating  a  passage  from  the  programme  of  the  Contemporaneo, 
which  represents  the  hope  of  Rome  at  this  moment.  It  is  con 
ducted  by  men  of  well-known  talent. 

"  The  Contemporaneo  (Contemporary)  is  a  journal  of  progress, 
but  tempered,  as  the  good  and  wise  think  best,  in  conformity  with 
the  will  of  our  best  of  princes,  and  the  wants  and  expectations  of 
the  public 

"  Through  discussion  it  desires  to  prepare  minds  to  receive  re- 


THE    CONTEMPORANEO.  227 

forms  so  soon  and  far  as  they  are  favored  by  the  law  of  oppor 
tunity. 

"  Every  attempt  which  is  made  contrary  to  this  social  law 
must  fail.  It  is  vain  to  hope  fruits  from  a  tree  out  of  season,  and 
equally  in  vain  to  introduce  the  best  measures  into  a  country  not 
prepared  to  receive  them." 

And  so  on.  I  intended  to  have  translated  in  full  the  pro 
gramme,  but  time  fails,  and  the  law  of  opportunity  does  not  favor, 
as  my  "  opportunity  "  leaves  for  London  this  afternoon.  I  have 
given  enough  to  mark  the  purport  of  the  whole.  It  will  easily  be 
seen  that  it  was  not  from  the  platform  assumed  by  the  Contempo- 
raneo  that  Lycurgus  legislated,  or  Socrates  taught,  —  that  the 
Christian  religion  was  propagated,  or  the  Church  was  reformed 
by  Luther.  The  opportunity  that  the  martyrs  found  here  in  the 
Colosseum,  from  whose  blood  grew  up  this  great  tree  of  Papacy, 
was  not  of  the  kind  waited  for  by  these  moderate  progressists. 
Nevertheless,  they  may  be  good  schoolmasters  for  Italy,  and  are 
not  to  be  disdained  in  these  piping  times  of  peace. 

More  anon,  of  old  and  new,  from  Tuscany. 


LETTER    XV. 

Italy.  —  Fruits  and  Flowers  on  the  Route  from  Florence  to  Rome.  —  The  Plain 
of  Umbria.  —  Assisi.  —  The  Saints.  —  Tuition  in  Schools.  —  Pius  IX.  —  The 
Etrurian  Tomb.  —  Perugia  and  its  Stores  of  Early  Art.  —  Portraits  of  Raphael. 

—  Florence.  —  The  Grand  Duke  and  his  Policy.  —  The  Liberty  of  the  Press 
and  its   Influence.  —  The    American   Sculptors.  —  Greenough    and   his   New 
Works.  —  Powers. —  His  Statue  of  Calhoun.  —  Review  of  his  Endeavors. — 
The  Festivals  of  St.  John  at  Florence.  —  Bologna.  —  Female  Professors  in  its 
University.  —  Matilda  Tambroni  and  others.  —  Milan  and  her  Female  Mathe 
matician. —  The  State  of  Woman  in  Italy.  —  Ravenna  and  Byron.  —  Venice. 

—  The  Adda.  —  Milan  and  its  Neighborhood,  and  Manzoni.  —  Excitements.  — 
National  Alfairs. 

Milan,  August  9,  1847. 

SINCE  leaving  Rome,  I  have  not  been  able  to  steal  a  moment 
from  the  rich  and  varied  objects  before  me  to  write  about  them. 
I  will,  therefore,  take  a  brief  retrospect  of  the  ground. 

I  passed  from  Florence  to  Rome  by  the  Perugia  route,  and 
saw  for  the  first  time  the  Italian  vineyards.  The  grapes  hung 
in  little  clusters.  When  I  return,  they  will  be  full  of  light  and 
life,  but  the  fields  will  not  be  so  enchantingly  fresh,  nor  so  en 
amelled  with  flowers. 

The  profusion  of  red  poppies,  which  dance  on  every  wall  and 
glitter  throughout  the  grass,  is  a  great  ornament  to  the  landscape. 
In  full  sunlight  their  vermilion  is  most  beautiful.  Well  might 
Ceres  gather  such  poppies  to  mingle  with  her  wheat. 

We  climbed  the  hill  to  Assisi,  and  my  ears  thrilled  as  with 
many  old  remembered  melodies,  when  an  old  peasant,  in  sonorous 
phrase,  bade  me  look  out  and  see  the  plain  of  Umbria.  I  looked 
back  and  saw  the  carriage  toiling  up  the  steep  path,  drawn  by  a 
pair  of  those  light-colored  oxen  Shelley  so  much  admired.  I 
stood  near  the  spot  where  Goethe  met  with  a  little  adventure, 


ASSIST.  229 

which  he  has  described  with  even  more  than  his  usual  delicate 
humor.  Who  can  ever  be  alone  for  a  moment  in  Italy  ?  Every 
stone  has  a  voice,  every  grain  of  dust  seems  instinct  with  spirit 
from  the  Past,  every  step  recalls  some  line,  some  legend  of  long- 
neglected  lore. 

Assisi  was  exceedingly  charming  to  me.  So  still !  —  all  tem 
poral  noise  and  bustle  seem  hushed  down  yet  by  the  presence  of 
the  saint.  So  clean  !  —  the  rains  of  heaven  wash  down  all  im 
purities  into  the  valley.  I  must  confess  that,  elsewhere,  I  have 
shared  the  feelings  of  Dickens  toward  St.  Francis  and  St.  Sebas 
tian,  as  the  "  Mounseer  Tonsons  "  of  Catholic  art.  St.  Sebastian 
I  have  not  been  so  tired  of,  for  the  beauty  and  youth  of  the  figure 
make  the  monotony  with  which  the  subject  of  his  martyrdom  is 
treated  somewhat  less  wearisome.  But  St.  Francis  is  so  sad,  and 
so  ecstatic,  and  so  brown,  so  entirely  the  monk,  —  and  St.  Clara 
so  entirely  the  nun !  I  have  been  very  sorry  for  her  that  he  was 
able  to  draw  her  from  the  human  to  the  heavenly  life  ;  she  seems 
so  sad  and  so  worn  out  by  the  effort.  But  here  at  Assisi,  one 
cannot  help  being  penetrated  by  the  spirit  that  flowed  from  that 
life.  Here  is  the  room  where  his  father  shut  up  the  boy  to  pun 
ish  his  early  severity  of  devotion.  Here  is  the  picture  which 
represents  him  despoiled  of  all  outward  things,  even  his  garments, 
—  devoting  himself,  body  and  soul,  to  the  service  of  God  in  the 
way  he  believed  most  acceptable.  Here  is  the  underground 
chapel,  where  rest  those  weary  bones,  saluted  by  the  tears  of  so 
many  weary  pilgrims  who  have  come  hither  to  seek  strength  from 
his  example.  Here  are  the  churches  above,  full  of  the  works  of 
earlier  art,  animated  by  the  contagion  of  a  great  example.  It  is 
impossible  not  to  bow  the  head,  and  feel  how  mighty  an  influence 
flows  from  a  single  soul,  sincere  in  its  service  of  truth,  in  what 
ever  form  that  truth  comes  to  it. 

A  troop  of  neat,  pretty  school-girls  attended  us  about,  going 
with  us  into  the  little  chapels  adorned  with  pictures  which  open  at 
every  corner  of  the  streets,  smiling  on  us  at  a  respectful  distance. 
Some  of  them  were  fourteen  or  fifteen  years  old.  I  found  read 
ing,  writing,  and  sewing  were  all  they  learned  at  their  school ; 
20 


230  THINGS   AND    THOUGHTS    IN   EUROPE. 

the  first,  indeed,  they  knew  well  enough,  if  they  could  ever  got 
books  to  use  it  on.  Tranquil  as  Assisi  was,  on  every  wall  was 
read  Viva  Pio  IX. !  and  we  found  the  guides  and  workmen  in  the 
shop  full  of  a  vague  hope  from  him.  The  old  love  which  has 
made  so  rich  this  aerial  cradle  of  St.  Francis  glows  warm  as  ever 
in  the  breasts  of  men  ;  still,  as  ever,  they  long  for  hero-worship, 
and  shout  aloud  at  the  least  appearance  of  an  object. 

The  church  at  the  foot  of  the  hill,  Santa  Maria  degli  Angeli, 
seems  tawdry  after  Assisi.  It  also  is  full  of  records  of  St.  Fran 
cis,  his  pains  and  his  triumphs.  Here,  too,  on  a  little  chapel,  is 
the  famous  picture  by  Oyerbeck ;  too  exact  a  copy,  but  how  dif 
ferent  in  effect  from  the  early  art  we  had  just  seen  above !  Har 
monious  but  frigid,  grave  but  dull ;  childhood  is  beautiful,  but  not 
when  continued,  or  rather  transplanted,  into  the  period  where  we 
look  for  passion,  varied  means,  and  manly  force. 

Before  reaching  Perugia,  I  visited  an  Etrurian  tomb,  which  is 
a  little  way  off  the  road  ;  it  is  said  to  be  one  of  the  finest  in  Etru- 
ria.  The  hill-side  is  full  of  them,  but  excavations  are  expensive, 
and  not  frequent.  The  effect  of  this  one  was  beyond  my  expec 
tations  ;  in  it  were  several  female  figures,  very  dignified  and  calm, 
as  the  dim  lamp-light  fell  on  them  by  turns.  The  expression  of 
these  figures  shows  that  the  position  of  woman  in  these  states  was 
noble.  Their  eagles'  nests  cherished  well  the  female  eagle  who 
kept  watch  in  the  eyrie. 

Perugia  too  is  on  a  noble  hill.  What  a  daily  excitement  such 
a  view,  taken  at  every  step !  life  is  worth  ten  times  as  much  in  a 
city  so  situated.  Perugia  is  full,  overflowing,  with  the  treasures 
of  early  art.  I  saw  them  so  rapidly  it  seems  now  as  if  in  a  trance, 
yet  certainly  with  a  profit,  a  manifold  gain,  such  as  Mahomet 
thought  he  gained  from  his  five  minutes'  visits  to  other  spheres. 
Here  are  two  portraits  of  Raphael  as  a  youth :  it  is  touching  to 
see  what  effect  this  angel  had  upon  all  that  surrounded  him  from 
the  very  first. 

Florence !  I  was  there  a  month,  and  in  a  sense  saw  Flor 
ence  :  that  is  to  say,  I  took  an  inventory  of  what  is  to  be  seen 
there,  and  not  without  great  intellectual  profit.  There  is  too 


FLORENCE.  231 

much  that  is  really  admirable  in  art,  —  the  nature  of  its  growth 
lies  before  you  too  clearly  to  be  evaded.  Of  such  things  more 
elsewhere. 

I  do  not  like  Florence  as  I  do  cities  more  purely  Italian.  The 
natural  character  is  ironed  out  here,  and  done  up  in  a  French  pat 
tern  ;  yet  there  is  no  French  vivacity,  nor  Italian  either.  The 
Grand  Duke  —  more  and  more  agitated  by  the  position  in  which 
he  finds  himself  between  the  influence  of  the  Pope  and  that  of 
Austria  —  keeps  imploring  and  commanding  his  people  to  keep 
still,  and  they  are  still  and  glum  as  death.  This  is  all  on  the 
outside ;  within,  Tuscany  burns.  Private  culture  has  not  been 
in  vain,  and  there  is,  in  a  large  circle,  mental  preparation  for 
a  very  different  state  of  things  from  the  present,  with  an  ar 
dent  desire  to  diffuse  the  same  amid  the  people  at  large.  The 
sovereign  has  been  obliged  for  the  present  to  give  more  liberty 
to  the  press,  and  there  is  an  immediate  rush  of  thought  to  the 
new  vent ;  if  it  is  kept  open  a  few  months,  the  effect  on  the  body  of 
the  people  cannot  fail  to  be  great.  I  intended  to  have  translated 
some  passages  from  the  programme  of  the  Patria,  one  of  the 
papers  newly  started  at  Florence,  but  time  fails.  One  of  the  ar 
ticles  in  the  same  number  by  Lambruschini,  on  the  duties  of  the 
clergy  at  this  juncture,  contains  views  as  liberal  as  can  be  found 
in  print  anywhere  in  the  world.  More  of  these  things  when  I 
return  to  Rome  in  the  autumn,  when  I  hope  to  find  a  little 
leisure  to  think  over  what  I  have  seen,  and,  if  found  worthy,  to 
put  the  result  in  writing. 

I  visited  the  studios  of  our  sculptors  ;  Greenough  has  in  clay  a 
David  which  promises  high  beauty  and  nobleness,  a  bass-relief,  full 
of  grace  and  tender  expression  ;  he  is  also  modelling  a  head  of 
Napoleon,  and  justly  enthusiastic  in  the  study.  His  great  group 
I  did  not  see  in  such  a  state  as  to  be  secure  of  my  impression. 
The  face  of  the  Pioneer  is  very  fine,  the  form  of  the  woman  grace 
ful  and  expressive  ;  but  I  was  not  satisfied  with  the  Indian.  I 
shall  see  it  more  as  a  whole  on  my  return  to  Florence. 

As  to  the  Eve  and  the  Greek  Slave,  I  could  only  join  with  the 
rest  of  the  world  in  admiration  of  their  beauty  and  the  fine  feeling 


232  THINGS   AND    THOUGHTS    IN    EUROPE. 

of  nature  which  they  exhibit.  The  statue  of  Calhoun  is  full  of 
power,  simple,  and  majestic  in  attitude  and  expression.  In  busts 
Powers  seems  to  me  unrivalled ;  still,  he  ought  not  to  spend  his 
best  years  on  an  employment  which  cannot  satisfy  his  ambition 
nor  develop  his  powers.  If  our  country  loves  herself,  she  will 
order  from  him  some  great  work  before  the  prime  of  his  genius 
has  been  frittered  away,  and  his  best  years  spent  on  lesser  things. 

I  saw  at  Florence  the  festivals  of  St.  John,  but  they  are  poor 
affairs  to  one  who  has  seen  the  Neapolitan  and  Roman  people  on 
such  occasions. 

Passing  from  Florence,  I  came  to  Bologna,  —  learned  Bo 
logna  ;  indeed  an  Italian  city,  full  of  expression,  of  physiognomy, 
so  to  speak.  A  woman  should  love  Bologna,  for  there*  has  the 
spark  of  intellect  in  woman  been  cherished  with  reverent  care. 
Not  in  former  ages  only,  but  in  this,  Bologna  raised  a  woman 
who  was  worthy  to  the  dignities  of  its  University,  and  in  their 
Certosa  they  proudly  show  the  monument  to  Matilda  Tambroni, 
late  Greek  Professor  there.  Her  letters,  preserved  by  her 
friends,  are  said  to  form  a  very  valuable  collection.  In  their 
anatomical  hall  is  the  bust  of  a  woman,  Professor  of  Anatomy. 
In  Art  they  have  had  Properzia  di  Rossi,  Elizabetta  Sirani,  La- 
vinia  Fontana,  and  delight  to  give  their  works  a  conspicuous 
place. 

In  other  cities  the  men  alone  have  their  Casino  dei  Nolili, 
where  they  give  balls,  conversazioni,  and  similar  entertainments. 
Here  women  have  one,  and  are  the  soul  of  society. 

In  Milan,  also,  I  see  in  the  Ambrosian  Libraiy  the  bust  of  a 
female  mathematician.  These  things  make  me  feel  that,  if  the 
state  of  woman  in  Italy  is  so  depressed,  yet  a  good-will  toward  a 
better  is  not  wholly  wanting.  Still  more  significant  is  the  rev 
erence  to  the  Madonna  and  innumerable  female  saints,  who,  if, 
like  St.  Teresa,  they  had  intellect  as  well  as  piety,  became  coun 
sellors  no  less  than  comforters  to  the  spirit  of  men. 

Ravenna,  too,  I  saw,  and  its  old  Christian  art,  the  Pineta,  where 
Byron  loved  to  ride,  and  the  paltry  apartments  where,  cheered  by 
a  new  affection,  in  which  was  more  of  tender  friendship  than  of 


VENICE.  233 

passion,  he  found  himself  less  wretched  than  at  beautiful  Venice 
or  stately  Genoa. 

All  the  details  of  this  visit  to  Ravenna  are  pretty.  I  shall 
write  them  out  some  time.  Of  Padua,  too,  the  little  to  be  said 
should  be  said  in  detail. 

Of  Venice  and  its  enchanted  life  I  could  not  speak ;  it  should 
only  be  echoed  back  in  music.  There  only  I  began  to  feel  in  its 
fulness  Venetian  Art.  It  can  only  be  seen  in  its  own  atmos 
phere.  Never  had  I  the  least  idea  of  what  is  to  be  seen  at  Ven 
ice.  It  seems  to  me  as  if  no  one  ever  yet  had  seen  it,  —  so 
entirely  wanting  is  any  expression  of  what  I  felt  myself.  Venice ! 
on  this  subject  I  shall  not  write  much  till  time,  place,  and  mode 
agree  to  make  it  fit. 

Venice,  where  all  is  past,  is  a  fit  asulum  for  the  dynasties  of 
the  Past.  The  Duchesse  de  Berri  owns  one  of  the  finest  palaces 
on  the  Grand  Canal  ;  the  Due  de  Bordeaux  rents  another  ; 
Mademoiselle  Taglioni  has  bought  the  famous  Casa  d'  Oro,  and  it 
is  under  repair.  Thanks  to  the  fashion  which  has  made  Venice  a 
refuge  of  this  kind,  the  palaces,  rarely  inhabited  by  the  repre 
sentatives*  of  their  ancient  names,  are  valuable  property,  and 
the  noble  structures  will  not  be  suffered  to  lapse  into  the  sea, 
above  which  they  rose  so  proudly.  The  restorations,  too,  are 
made  with  excellent  taste  and  judgment,  —  nothing  is  spoiled. 
Three  of  these  fine  palaces  are  now  hotels,  so  that  the  transient 
visitor  can  enjoy  from  their  balconies  all  the  wondrous  shows  of 
the  Venetian  night  and  day  as  much  as  any  of  their  former  pos 
sessors  did.  I  was  at  the  Europa,  formerly  the  Giustiniani 
Palace,  with  better  air  than  those  on  the  Grand  Canal,  and  a 
more  unobstructed  view  than  Danieli's. 

Madame  de  Berri  gave  an  entertainment  on  the  birthnight  of 
her  son,  and  the  old  Duchesse  d'Angouleme  came  from  Vienna  to 
attend  it.  'T  was  a  scene  of  fairy-land,  the  palace  full  of  light, 
so  that  from  the  canal  could  be  seen  even  the  pictures  on  the 
walls.  Landing  from  the  gondolas,  the  elegantly  dressed  ladies 
and  gentlemen  seemed  to  rise  from  the  water  ;  we  also  saw  them 
glide  up  the  great  stair,  rustling  their  plumes,  and  in  the  recepHon- 
20* 


234  THINGS    AND    THOUGHTS    IN   EUROPE. 

rooms  make  and  receive  the  customary  grimaces.  A  fine  band 
stationed  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  canal  played  the  while,  and 
a  flotilla  of  gondolas  lingered  there  to  listen.  I,  too,  amid  the 
mob,  a  pleasant  position  in  Venice  alone,  thought  of  the  Stuarts, 
Bourbons,  Bonapartes,  here  in  Italy,  and  offered  up  a  prayer  that 
other  names,  when  the  possessors  have  power  without  the  heart  to 
use  it  for  the  emancipation  of  mankind,  might  be  added  to  the 
list,  and  other  princes,  more  rich  in  blood  than  brain,  might  come 
to  enjoy  a  perpetual  villeggiatura  in  Italy.  It  did  not  seem  to  me 
a  cruel  wish.  The  show  of  greatness  will  satisfy  every  legitimate 
desire  of  such  minds.  A  gentle  punishment  for  the  distributors 
of  letters  de  cachet  and  Spielberg  dungeons  to  their  fellow-men. 

Having  passed  more  than  a  fortnight  at  Venice,  I  have  come 
here,  stopping  at  Vicenza,  Verona,  Mantua,  Lago  di  Garda,  Bres 
cia.  Certainly  I  have  learned  more  than  ever  in  any  previous 
ten  days  of  my  existence,  and  have  formed  an  idea  what  is  needed 
for  the  study  of  Art  and  its  history  in  these  regions.  To  be  sure, 
I  shall  never  have  time  to  follow  it  up,  but  it  is  a  delight  to  look 
up  those  glorious  vistas,  even  when  there  is  no  hope  of  entering 
them. 

A  violent  shower  obliged  me  to  stop  on  the  way.  It  was  late 
at  night,  and  I  was  nearly  asleep,  when,  roused  by  the  sound  of 
bubbling  waters,  I  started  up  and  asked,  "  Is  that  the  Adda  ?  " 
and  it  was.  So  deep  is  the  impression  made  by  a  simple  natural 
recital,  like  that  of  Renzo's  wanderings  in  the  Promessi  Sposi, 
that  the  memory  of  his  hearing  the  Adda  in  this  way  occurred  to 
me  at  once,  and  the  Adda  seemed  familiar  as  if  I  had  been  a 
native  of  this  region. 

As  the  Scottish  lakes  seem  the  domain  of  Walter  Scott,  so  does 
Milan  and  its  neighborhood  in  the  mind  of  a  foreigner  belong  to 
Manzoni.  I  have  seen  him  since,  the  gentle  lord  of  this  wide  do 
main  ;  his  hair  is  white,  but  his  eyes  still  beam  as  when  he  first 
saw  the  apparitions  of  truth,  simple  tenderness,  and  piety  which 
he  has  so  admirably  recorded  for  our  benefit.  Those  around 
lament  that  the  fastidiousness  of  his  taste  prevents  his  completing 
and  publishing  more,  and  that  thus  a  treasury  of  rare  knowledge 


ITALIAN    AFFAIRS.  235 

and  refined  thought  will  pass  from  us  without  our  reaping  the  ben 
efit.  We,  indeed,  have  no  title  to  complain,  what  we  do  possess 
from  his  hand  is  so  excellent. 

At  this  moment  there  is  great  excitement  in  Italy.  A  supposed 
spy  of  Austria  has  been  assassinated  at  Ferrara,  and  Austrian 
troops  are  marched  there.  It  is  pretended  that  a  conspiracy  has 
been  discovered  in  Rome ;  the  consequent  disturbances  have  been 
put  down.  The  National  Guard  is  forming.  All  things  seem  to 
announce  that  some  important  change  is  inevitable  here,  but  what  ? 
Neither  Radicals  nor  Moderates  dare  predict  with  confidence, 
and  I  am  yet  too  much  a  stranger  to  speak  with  assurance  of  im 
pressions  I  have  received.  But  it  is  impossible  not  to  hope. 


LETTER    XVI. 

Review  of  Past  and  Present.  —  The  Merits  of  Italian  Literature.  —  Manzoni.  — 
Italian  Dialects.  —  Milan,  the  Milanese,  and  the  Simplicity  of  their  Language. 
—  The  North  of  Italy,  and  a  Tour  to  Switzerland.  —  Italian  Lakes.  —  Mag- 
giore,  Como,  and  Lugano.  —  Lago  di  Garda.  —  The  Boatmen  of  the  Lakes  and 
the  Gondoliers.  —  Lady  Franklin,  Widow  of  the  Navigator.  —  Return  to  and 
Festivals  at  Milan.  —  The  Archbishop.  —  Austrian  Rule  and  Austrian  Policy. 
—  The  Future  Hopes  of  Italy.  —  A  Glance  at  Pavia,  Florence,  Parma,  and 
Bologna,  and  the  Works  of  the  Masters. 

Rome,  October,  1847. 

I  THINK  my  last  letter  was  from  Milan,  and  written  after  I  had 
seen  Manzoni.  This  was  to  me  a  great  pleasure.  I  have  now 
seen  the  most  important  representatives  who  survive  of  the  last 
epoch  in  thought.  Our  age  has  still  its  demonstrations  to  make, 
its  heroes  and  poets  to  crown. 

Although  the  modern  Italian  literature  is  not  poor,  as  many 
persons  at  a  distance  suppose,  but,  on  the  contrary,  surpris 
ingly  rich  in  tokens  of  talent,  if  we  consider  the  circumstances 
under  which  it  struggles  to  exist,  yet  very  few  writers  have  or 
deserve  a  European  or  American  reputation.  Where  a  whole 
country  is  so  kept  down,  her  best  minds  cannot  take  the  lead  in 
the  progress  of  the  age ;  they  have  too  much  to  suffer,  too  much 
to  explain.  But  among  the  few  who,  through  depth  of  spiritual 
experience  and  the  beauty  of  form  in  which  it  is  expressed, 
belong  not  only  to  Italy,  but  to  the  world,  Manzoni  takes  a 
high  rank.  The  passive  virtues  he  teaches  are  no  longer  what  is 
wanted;  the  manners  he  paints  with  so  delicate  a  fidelity  are 
beginning  to  change;  but  the  spirit  of  his  works,  —  the  tender 
piety,  the  sensibility  to  the  meaning  of  every  humblest  form  of  life, 
the  delicate  humor  and  satire  so  free  from  disdain,  —  these  are 
immortal. 


MILAN.  237 

Young  Italy  rejects  Manzoni,  though  not  irreverently ;  Young 
Italy  prizes  his  works,  but  feels  that  the  doctrine  of  "  Pray  and 
wait "  is  not  for  her  at  this  moment,  —  that  she  needs  a  more 
fervent  hope,  a  more  active  faith.  She  is  right. 

It  is  well  known  that  the  traveller,  if  he  knows  the  Italian 
language  as  written  in  books,  the  standard  Tuscan,  still  finds 
himself  a  stranger  in  many  parts  of  Italy,  unable  to  comprehend 
the  dialects,  with  their  lively  abbreviations  and  witty  slang.  That 
of  Venice  I  had  understood  somewhat,  and  could  enter  into  the 
drollery  and  naivete  of  the  gondoliers,  who,  as  a  class,  have  an 
unusual  share  of  character.  But  the  Milanese  I  could  not  at  first 
understand  at  all.  Their  language  seemed  to  me  detestably  harsh, 
and  their  gestures  unmeaning.  But  after  a  friend,  who  possesses 
that  large  and  ready  sympathy  easier  found  in  Italy  than  any 
where  else,  had  translated  for  me  verbatim  into  French  some 
of  the  poems  written  in  the  Milanese,  and  then  read  them  aloud 
in  the  original,  I  comprehended  the  peculiar  inflection  of  voice 
and  idiom  in  the  people,  and  was  charmed  with  it,  as  one  is  with 
the  instinctive  wit  and  wisdom  of  children. 

There  is  very  little  to  see  at  Milan,  compared  with  any  other 
Italian  city  ;  and  this  was  very  fortunate  for  me,  allowing  an  inter 
val  of  repose  in  the  house,  which  I  cannot  take  when  there  is  so 
much  without,  tempting  me  to  incessant  observation  and  study. 
I  went  through  the  North  of  Italy  with  a  constantly  increasing 
fervor  of  interest.  When  I  had  thought  of  Italy,  it  was  always 
of  the  South,  of  the  Roman  States,  of  Tuscany.  But  now  I  be 
came  deeply  interested  in  the  history,  the  institutions,  the  art  of 
the  North.  The  fragments  of  the  past  mark  the  progress  of  its ,' 
waves  so  clearly,  I  learned  to  understand,  to  prize  them  every'^ 
day  more,  to  know  how  to  make  use  of  the  books  about  them.  I 
shall  have  much  to  say  on  these  subjects  some  day. 

Leaving  Milan,  I  went  on  the  Lago  Maggiore,  and  afterward 
into  Switzerland.  Of  this  tour  I  shall  not  speak  here ;  it  was  a 
beautiful  little  romance  by  itself,  and  infinitely  refreshing  to  be  so 
near  nature  in  these  grand  and  simple  forms,  after  so  much  ex 
citing  thought  of  Art  and  Man.  The  day  passed  in  the  St.  Ber- 


238  THINGS    AND    THOUGHTS    IN   EUROPE. 

nardin,  with  its  lofty  peaks  and  changing  lights  upon  the  distant 
snows,  —  its  holy,  exquisite  valleys  and  waterfalls,  its  stories  of 
eagles  and  chamois,  was  the  greatest  refreshment  I  ever  ex 
perienced:  it  was  bracing  as  a  cold  bath  after  the  heat  of  a 
crowd  amid  which  one  has  listened  to  some  most  eloquent 
oration. 

Returning  from  Switzerland,  I  passed  a  fortnight  on  the  Lake 
of  Como,  and  afterward  visited  Lugano.  There  is  no  exagger 
ation  in  the  enthusiastic  feeling  with  which  artists  and  poets 
have  viewed  these  Italian  lakes.  Their  beauties  are  peculiar, 
enchanting,  innumerable.  The  Titan  of  Richter,  the  Wander- 
jahre  of  Goethe,  the  Elena  of  Taylor,  the  pictures  of  Turner, 
had  not  prepared  me  for  the  visions  of  beauty  that  daily  en 
tranced  the  eyes  and  heart  in  those  regions.  To  our  country 
Nature  has  been  most  bounteous;  but  we  have  nothing  in  the 
same  kind  that  can  compare  with  these  lakes,  as  seen  under  the 
Italian  heaven.  As  to  those  persons  who  have  pretended  to 
discover  that  the  effects  of  light  and  atmosphere  were  no  finer 
than  they  found  in  our  own  lake  scenery,  I  can  only  say  that  they 
must  be  exceedingly  obtuse  in  organization,  —  a  defect  not  un 
common  among  Americans. 

Nature  seems  to  have  labored  to  express  her  full  heart  in  as 
many  ways  as  possible,  when  she  made  these  lakes,  moulded  and 
planted  their  shores.  Lago  Maggiore  is  grand,  resplendent  in 
its  beauty;  the  view  of  the  Alps  gives  a  sort  of  lyric  exalta 
tion  to  the  scene.  Lago  di  Garda  is  so  soft  and  fair,  — so  glitter 
ing  sweet  on  one  side,  the  ruins  of  ancient  palaces  rise  so  softly 
with  the  beauties  of  that  shore ;  but  at  the  other  end,  amid  the 
Tyrol,  it  is  sublime,  calm,  concentrated  in  its  meaning.  Como 
cannot  be  better  described  in  general  than  in  the  words  of 
Taylor: 

"  Softly  sublime,  profusely  fair." 

Lugano  is  more  savage,  more  free  in  its  beauty.  I  was  on  it  in 
a  high  gale ;  there  was  a  little  danger,  just  enough  to  exhilarate  ; 
its  waters  were  wild,  and  clouds  blowing  across  the  neighboring 
peaks.  I  like  very  much  the  boatmen  on  these  lakes ;  they  have 


HATRED    OF    AUSTRIAN    RULE.  2.°>9 

strong  and  prompt  character.  Of  simple  features,  they  are  more 
honest  and  manly  than  Italian  men  are  found  in  the  thorough 
fares  ;  their  talk  is  not  so  witty  as  that  of  the  Venetian  gondoliers, 
but  picturesque,  and  what  the  French  call  incisive.  Very  touch 
ing  were  some  of  their  histories,  as  they  told  them  to  me  while 
pausing  sometimes  on  the  lake. 

On  this  lake,  also,  I  met  Lady  Franklin,  wife  of  the  celebrated 
navigator.  She  has  been  in  the  United  States,  and  showed  equal 
penetration  and  candor  in  remarks  on  what  she  had  seen  there. 
She  gave  me  interesting  particulars  as  to  the  state  of  things  in 
Van  Diemen's  Land,  where  she  passed  seven  years  when  her 
husband  was  in  authority  there. 

I  returned  to  Milan  for  the  great  feast  of  the  Madonna,  8th 
September,  and  those  made  for  the  Archbishop's  entry,  which 
took  place  the  same  week.  These  excited  as  much  feeling  as  the 
Milanese  can  have  a  chance  to  display,  this  Archbishop  being 
much  nearer  the  public  heart  than  his  predecessor,  who  was  a 
poor  servant  of  Austria. 

The  Austrian  rule  is  always  equally  hated,  and  time,  instead  of 
melting  away  differences,  only  makes  them  more  glaring.  The 
Austrian  race  have  no  faculties  that  can  ever  enable  them  to 
understand  the  Italian  character ;  their  policy,  so  well  contrived 
to  palsy  and  repress  for  a  time,  cannot  kill,  and  there  is  always 
a  force  at  work  underneath  which  shall  yet,  and  I  think  now 
before  long,  shake  off  the  incubus.  The  Italian  nobility  have 
always  kept  the  invader  at  a  distance ;  they  have  not  been  at  all 
seduced  or  corrupted  by  the  lures  of  pleasure  or  power,  but  have 
shown  a  passive  patriotism  highly  honorable  to  them.  In  the 
middle  class  ferments  much  thought,  and  there  is  a  capacity  for 
effort ;  in  the  present  system  it  cannot  show  itself,  but  it  is  there  ; 
thought  ferments,  and  will  yet  produce  a  wine  that  shall  set  the 
Lombard  veins  on  fire  when  the  time  for  action  shall  arrive.  The 
lower  classes  of  the  population  are  in  a  dull  state  indeed.  The  cen 
sorship  of  the  press  prevents  all  easy,  natural  ways  of  instructing 
them  ;  there  are  no  public  meetings,  no  free  access  to  them  by  more 
instructed  and  aspiring  minds.  The  Austrian  policy  is  to  allow 


210  THINGS    AND    THOUGHTS    IN    EUROPE. 

them  a  degree  of  material  well-being,  and  though  so  much  wealth 
is  drained  from  the  country  for  the  service  of  the  foreigners,  yet 
enough  must  remain  on  these  rich  plains  comfortably  to  feed  and 
clothe  the  inhabitants.  Yet  the  great  moral  influence  of  the 
Pope's  action,  though  obstructed  in  their  case,  does  reach  and 
rouse  them,  and  they,  too,  felt  the  thrill  of  indignation  at  the 
occupation  of  Ferrara.  The  base  conduct  of  the  police  toward 
the  people,  when,  at  Milan,  some  youths  were  resolute  to  sing 
the  hymn  in  honor  of  Pius  IX.,  when  the  feasts  for  the  Arch 
bishop  afforded  so  legitimate  an  occasion,  roused  all  the  people  to 
unwonted  feeling.  The  nobles  protested,  and  Austria  had  not 
courage  to  persist  as  usual.  She  could  not  sustain  her  police, 
who  rushed  upon  a  defenceless  crowd,  that  had  no  share  in  what 
excited  their  displeasure,  except  by  sympathy,  and,  driving  them 
like  sheep,  wounded  them  in  the  backs.  Austria  feels  that  there 
is  now  no  sympathy  for  her  in  these  matters ;  that  it  is  not  the 
interest  of  the  world  to  sustain  her.  Her  policy  is,  indeed,  too 
thoroughly  organized  to  change  'except  by  revolution  ;  its  scope 
is  to  serve,  first,  a  reigning  family  instead  of  the  people ;  second, 
with  the  people  to  seek  a  physical  in  preference  to  an  intellectual 
good  ;  and,  third,  to  prefer  a  seeming  outward  peace  to  an  in 
ward  life.  This  policy  may  change  its  opposition  from  the  tyranni 
cal  to  the  insidious  ;  it  can  know  no  other  change.  Yet  do  I  meet 
persons  who  call  themselves  Americans,  —  miserable,  thought 
less  Esaus,  unworthy  their  high  birthright,  —  who  think  that  a 
mess  of  pottage  can  satisfy  the  wants  of  man,  and  that  the  Vien 
nese  listening  to  Strauss's  waltzes,  the  Lombard  peasant  supping 
full  of  his  polenta,  is  happy  enough.  Alas  !  I  have  the  more  reason 
to  be  ashamed  of  my  countrymen  that  it  is  not  among  the  poor, 
who  have  so  much  toil  that  there  is  little  time  to  think,  but  those 
who  are  rich,  who  travel,  —  in  body  that  is,  they  do  not  travel 
in  mind.  Absorbed  at  home  by  the  lust  of  gain,  the  love  of 
show,  abroad  they  see  only  the  equipages,  the  fine  clothes,  the 
food,  —  they  have  no  heart  for  the  idea,  for  the  destiny  of  our 
own  great  nation  :  how  can  they  feel  the  spirit  that  is  struggling 
now  in  this  and  others  of  Europe  ? 


PARMA.  241 

But  of  the  hopes  of  Italy  I  will  write  more  fully  in  another 
letter,  and  state  what  I  have  seen,  what  felt,  what  thought.  I 
went  from  Milan  to  Pavia,  and  saw  -its  magnificent  Certosa. 
I  passed  several  hours  in  examining  its  riches,  especially  the 
sculptures  of  its  facade,  full  of  force  and  spirit.  I  then  went  to 
Florence  by  Parma  and  Bologna.  In  Parma,  though  ill,  I  went 
to  see  all  the  works  of  the  masters.  A  wonderful  beauty  it  is  that 
informs  them,  —  not  that  which  is  the  chosen  food  of  my  soul, 
yet  a  noble  beauty,  and  which  did  its  message  to  me  .also. 
Those  works  are  failing ;  it  will  not  be  useless  to  describe  them 
in  a  book.  Beside  these  pictures,  I  saw  nothing  in  Parma  and 
Modena ;  these  states  are  obliged  to  hold  their  breath  while  their 
poor,  ignorant  sovereigns  skulk  in  corners,  hoping  to  hide  from 
the  coming  storm.  Of  all  this  more  in  my  next. 


21 


LETTER     XVII. 

First. Impressions  of  Rome  in  the  Spring.  —  The  Pope.  —  Rome  as  a  Capital. — 
Tuscany.  —  The  Liberty  of  the  Press  there  just  established.  —  The  Enlightened 
Minds  and  Available  Instructors  of  Tuscany.  —  Italian  Estimation  of  Pius  IX., 
and  the  Influence,  Present  and  Future,  of  his  Labors.  —  Foreign  Intrusion  the 
Carse  of  Italy.  —  Irruption  of  the  Austrians  into  Italy,  and  its  Effects.  —  Louis 
Philippe's  Apostasy  turned  to  the  Advantage  of  Freedom.  —  The  Gi-eat  Fete  at 
Florence  in  Honor  of  the  Grant  of  a  National  Guard.  —  The  American  Sculp 
tors,  Greenough,  Crawford,  and  their  Participation  in  the  Fe'te.  —  Americans 
generally  in  Italy.  —  Hymns  in  Florence  in  Honor  of  Pius  IX.  —  Happy  Augury 
to  be  drawn  from  the  wise  Docility  of  the  People.  —  An  Expression  of  Sympa 
thy  from  America  toward  Italy  earnestly  hoped  for. 

Rome,  October  18,  1847. 

IN  the  spring,  when  I  came  to  Rome,  the  people  were  in  the 
intoxication  of  joy  at  the  first  serious  measures  of  reform  taken 
by  the  Pope.  I  saw  with  pleasure  their  childlike  joy  and  truSt. 
With  equal  pleasure  I  saw  the  Pope,  who  has  not  in  his  expression 
the  signs  of  intellectual  greatness  so  much  as  of  nobleness  and  ten 
derness  of  heart,  of  large  and  liberal  sympathies.  Heart  had  spoken 
to  heart  between  the  prince  and  the  people  ;  it  was  beautiful  to  see 
the  immediate  good  influence  exerted  by  human  feeling  and  gener 
ous  designs,  on  the  part  of  a  ruler.  He  had  wished  to  be  a  father, 
and  the  Italians,  with  that  readiness  of  genius  that  characterizes 
them,  entered  at  once  into  the  relation  ;  they,  the  Roman  people, 
stigmatized  by  prejudice  as  so  crafty  and  ferocious,  showed  them 
selves  children,  eager  to  learn,  quick  to  obey,  happy  to  confide. 

Still  doubts  were  always  present  whether  all  this  joy  was  not 
premature.  The  task  undertaken  by  the  Pope  seemed  to  pre 
sent  insuperable  difficulties,  [j^t  is  never  easy  to  put  new  wine 
into  old  bottles,  and  our  age  is  one  where  all  things  tend  to  a 
great  crisis  ;  not  merely  to  revolution,  but  to  radical  reform.  From 


LIBERTY    OF    THE    PRESS.  243 

the  people  themselves  the  help  must  come,  and  not  from  princes ; 
in  the  new  state  of  things,  there  will  be  none  but  natural  princes, 
great  men.  From  the  aspirations  of  the  general  heart,  from  the 
teachings  of  conscience  in  individuals,  and  not  from  an  old  ivy- 
covered  church  long  since  undermined,  corroded  by  time  and 
gnawed  by  vermin,  the  help  must  come.  Rome,  to  resume  her 
glory,  must  cease  to  be  an  ecclesiastical  capital ;  must  renounce 
all  this  gorgeous  mummery,  whose  poetry,  whose  picture,  charms 
no  one  more  than  myself,  but  whose  meaning  is  all  of  the  past, 
and  finds  no  echo  in  the  future.  Although  I  sympathized  warm 
ly  with  the  warm  love  of  the  people,  the  adulation  of  leading 
writers,  who  were  so  willing  to  take  all  from  the  hand  of  the 
prince,  of  the  Church,  as  a  gift  and  a  bounty,  instead  of  implying 
steadily  that  it  was  the  right  of  the  people,  was  very  repulsive  to 
me.  The  moderate  party,  like  all  who,  in  a  transition  state, 
manage  affairs  with  a  constant  eye  to  prudence,  lacks  dignity  al 
ways  in  its  expositions  ;  it  is  disagreeable  and  depressing  to  read 
them. 

Passing  into  Tuscany,  I  found  the  liberty  of  the  press  just 
established,  and  a  superior  preparation  to  make  use  of  it.  The 
Alba,  the  Patria,  were  begun,  and  have  been  continued  with 
equal  judgment  and  spirit.  Their  aim  is  to  educate  the  youth,  to 
educate  the  lower  people  ;  they  see  that  this  is  to  be  done  by 
promoting  thought  fearlessly,  yet  urge  temperance  in  action, 
while  the  time  is  yet  so  difficult,  and  many  of  its  signs  dubious. 
They  aim  at  breaking  down  those  barriers  between  the  different 
states  of  Italy,  relics  of  a  barbarous  state  of  polity,  artificially  kept 
up  by  the  craft  of  her  foes.  While  anxious  not  to  break  down 
what  is  really  native  to  the  Italian  character,  —  defences  and 
differences  that  give  individual  genius  a  chance  to  grow  and  the 
fruits  of  each  region  to  ripen  in  their  natural  way,  —  they  aim  at 
a  harmony  of  spirit  as  to  measures  of  education  and  for  the  affairs 
of  business,  without  which  Italy  can  never,  as  one  nation,  present 
a  front  strong  enough  to  resist  foreign  robbery,  and  for  want  of 
which  so  much  time  and  talent  are  wasted  here,  and  internal  de 
velopment  almost  wholly  checked. 


244  THINGS    AND    THOUGHTS    IN    EUROPE. 

There  is  in  Tuscany  a  large  corps  of  enlightened  minds,  well 
prepared  to  be  the  instructors,  the  elder  brothers  and  guardians, 
of  the  lower  people,  and  whose  hearts  burn  to  fulfil  that  noble 
office.  Before,  it  had  been  almost  impossible  to  them,  for  the 
reasons  I  have  named  in  speaking  of  Lombardy  ;  but  during 
these  last  four  months  that  the  way  has  been  opened  by  the  free 
dom  of  the  press,  and  establishment  of  the  National  Guard,  —  so 
valuable,  first  of  all,  as  giving  occasion  for  public  meetings  and 
free  interchange  of  thought  between  the  different  classes,  —  it  is 
surprising  how  much  light  they  have  been  able  to  diffuse. 

A  Bolognese,  to  whom  I  observed,  "  How  can  you  be  so  full  of 
trust  when  all  your  hopes  depend,  not  on  the  recognition  of  prin 
ciples  and  wants  throughout  the  people,  but  on  the  life  of  one 
mortal  man  ?  "  replied  :  "  Ah  !  but  you  don't  consider  that  his  life 
gives  us  a  chance  to  effect  that  recognition.  If  Pius  IX.  be 
spared  to  us  five  years,  it  will  be  impossible  for  his  successors 
ever  to  take  a  backward  course.  Our  nation  is  of  a  genius  so 
vivacious,  —  we  are  unhappy,  but  not  stupid,  we  Italians,  —  we  can 
learn  as  much  in  two  months  as  other  nations  in  twenty  years." 
This  seemed  to  me  no  brag  when  I  returned  to  Tuscany  and  saw 
the  great  development  and  diffusion  of  thought  that  had  taken 
place  during  my  brief  absence.  The  Grand  Duke,  a  well-inten 
tioned,  though  dull  man,  had  dared  to  declare  himself  "  an  ITAL 
IAN  prince"  and  the  heart  of  Tuscany  had  bounded  with  hope. 
It  is  now  deeply  as  justly  felt  that  the  curse  of  Italy  is  foreign  in 
trusion  ;  that  if  she  could  dispense  with  foreign  aid,  and  be  free 
from  foreign  aggression,  she  would  find  the  elements  of  salvation 
within  herself.  All  her  efforts  tend  that  way,  to  re-establish  the 
natural  position  of  things  ;  may  Heaven  grant  them  success  ! 
For  myself,  I  believe  they  will  attain  it.  I  see  more  reason  for 
hope,  as  I  know  more  of  the  people.  Their  rash  and  baffled 
struggles  have  taught  them  prudence ;  they  are  wanted  in  the 
civilized  world  as  a  peculiar  influence  ;  their  leaders  are  thinking 
men,  their  cause  is  righteous.  I  believe  that  Italy  will  revive  to 
new  life,  and  probably  a  greater,  one  more  truly  rich  and  glorious, 
than  at  either  epoch  of  her  former  greatness. 


PETE   AT   FLORENCE.  245 

During  the  period  of  my  absence,  the  Austrians  had  entered 
Ferrara.  It  is  well  that  they  hazarded  this  step,  for  it  showed 
them  the  difficulties  in  acting  against  a  prince  of  the  Church  who 
is  at  the  same  time  a  friend  to  the  people.  The  position  was 
new,  and  they  were  probably  surprised  at  the  result,  —  surprised  at 
the  firmness  of  the  Pope,  surprised  at  the  indignation,  tempered 
by  calm  resolve,  on  the  part  of  the  Italians.  Louis  Philippe's 
mean  apostasy  has  this  time  turned  to  the  advantage  of  freedom. 
He  renounced  the  good  understanding  with  England  which  it  had 
been  one  of  the  leading  features  of  his  policy  to  maintain,  in  the 
hope  of  aggrandizing  and  enriching  his  family  (not  France,  he 
did  not  care  for  France)  ;  he  did  not  know  that  he  was  paving 
the  way  for  Italian  freedom.  England  now  is  led  to  play  a  part 
a  little  nearer  her  pretensions  as  the  guardian  of  progress  than 
she  often  comes,  and  the  ghost  of  La  Fayette  looks  down,  not  un- 
appeased,  to  see  the  "  Constitutional  King "  decried  by  the  sub 
jects  he  has  cheated  and  lulled  so  craftily.  The  king  of  Sardinia 
is  a  worthless  man,  in  whom  nobody  puts  any  trust  so  far  as  re 
gards  his  heart  or  honor ;  but  the  stress  of  things  seems  likely  to 
keep  him  on  the  right  side.  The  little  sovereigns  blustered  at 
first,  then  ran  away  affrighted  when  they  found  there  was  really 
a  spirit  risen  at  last  within  the  charmed  circle,  —  a  spirit  likely  to 
defy,  to  transcend,  the  spells  of  haggard  premiers  and  imbecile 
monarchs. 

I  arrived  in  Florence,  unhappily,  too  late  for  the  great  fete 
of  the  12th  of  September,  in  honor  of  the  grant  of  a  National 
Guard.  But  I  wept  at  the  mere  recital  of  the  events  of  that  day, 
which,  if  it  should  lead  to  no  important  results,  must  still  be  hal 
lowed  for  ever  in  the  memory  of  Italy,  for  the  great  and  beautiful 
emotions  that  flooded  the  hearts  of  her  children.  The  National 
Guard  is  hailed  with  no  undue  joy  by  Italians,  as  the  earnest  of 
progress,  the  first  step  toward  truly  national  institutions  and  a 
representation  of  the  people.  Gratitude  has  done  its  natural 
work  in  their  hearts  ;  it  has  made  them  better.  Some  days  before 
the  fete  were  passed  in  reconciling  all  strifes,  composing  all  differ 
ences  between  cities,  districts,  and  individuals.  They  wished  to 
21* 


246  THINGS    AND    THOUGHTS    IN   EUROPE. 

drop  all  petty,  all  local  differences,  to  wash  away  all  stains,  to 
bathe  and  prepare  for  a  new  great  covenant  of  brotherly  love, 
where  each  should  act  for  the  good  of  all.  On  that  day  they  all 
embraced  in  sign  of  this,  —  strangers,  foes,  all  exchanged  the  kiss 
of  faith  and  love ;  they  exchanged  banners,  as  a  token  that  they 
would  fight  for,  would  animate,  one  another.  All  was  done  in 
that  beautiful  poetic  manner  peculiar  to  this  artist  people ;  but  it 
was  the  spirit,  so  great  and  tender,  that  melts  my  heart  to  think 
of.  It  was  the  spirit  of  true  religion,  —  such,  my  Country  !  as, 
welling  freshly  from  some  great  hearts  in  thy  early  hours,  won 
for  thee  all  of  value  that  thou  canst  call  thy  own,  whose  ground 
work  is  the  assertion,  still  sublime  though  thou  hast  not  been  true 
to  it,  that  all  men  have  equal  rights,  and  that  these  are  birth- 
rights,  derived  from  God  alone. 

I  rejoice  to  say  that  the  Americans  took  their  share  on  this  oc 
casion,  and  that  Greenough —  one  of  the  few  Americans  who, 
living  in  Italy,  takes  the  pains  to  know  whether  it  is  alive  or 
dead,  who  penetrates  beyond  the  cheats  of  tradesmen  and  the 
cunning  of  a  mob  corrupted  by  centuries  of  slavery,  to  know  the 
real  mind,  the  vital  blood,  of  Italy  —  took  a  leading  part.  I  am 
sorry  to  say  that  a  large  portion  of  my  countrymen  here  take  the 
same  slothful  and  prejudiced  view  as  the  English,  and,  after  many 
years'  sojourn,  betray  entire  ignorance  of  Italian  literature  and 
Italian  life,  beyond  what  is  attainable  in  a  month's  passage 
through  the  thoroughfares.  However,  they  did  show,  this  time,  a 
becoming  spirit,  and  erected  the  American  eagle  where  its  cry 
ought  to  be  heard  from  afar,  —  where  a  nation  is  striving  for  in 
dependent  existence,  and  a  government  representing  the  people. 
Crawford  here  in  Rome  has  had  the  just  feeling  to  join  the 
Guard,  and  it  is  a  real  sacrifice  for  an  artist  to  spend  time  on  the 
exercises;  but  it  well  becomes  the  sculptor  of  Orpheus,  — of  him 
who  had  such  faith,  such  music  of  divine  thought,  that  he  made 
the  stones  move,  turned  the  beasts  from  their  accustomed  haunts, 
and  shamed  hell  itself  into  sympathy  with  the  grief  of  love.  I 
do  not  deny  that  such  a  spirit  is  wanted  here  in  Italy ;  it  is  ev 
erywhere,  if  anything  great,  anything  permanent,  is  to  be  done. 


DOCILITY    OF   THE    PEOPLE.  247 

In  reference  to  what  I  have  said  of  many  Americans  in  Italy,  I 
will  only  add,  that  they  talk  about  the  corrupt  and  degenerate 
state  of  Italy  as  they  do  about  that  of  our  slaves  at  home.  They 
come  ready  trained  to  that  mode  of  reasoning  which  affirms  that, 
because  men  are  degraded  by  bad  institutions,  they  are  not  fit  for 
better. 

As  to  the  English,  some  of  them  are  full  of  generous,  intelligent 
sympathy ;  —  indeed  what  is  more  solidly,  more  wisely  good  than 
the  right  sort  of  Englishmen !  —  but  others  are  like  a  gentleman  I 
travelled  with  the  other  day,  a  man  of  intelligence  and  refinement 
too  as  to  the  details  of  life  and  outside  culture,  who  observed,  that 
he  did  not  see  what  the  Italians  wanted  of  a  National  Guard,  un 
less  to  wear  these  little  caps.  He  was  a  man  who  had  passed  five 
years  in  Italy,  but  always  covered  with  that  non-conductor  called 
by  a  witty  French  writer  "  the  Britannic  fluid." 

Very  sweet  to  my  ear  was  the  continual  hymn  in  the  streets 
of  Florence,  in  honor  of  Pius  IX.  It  is  the  Roman  hymn,  and 
none  of  the  new  ones  written  in  Tuscany  have  been  able  to  take 
its  place.  The  people  thank  the  Grand  Duke  when  he  does  them 
good,  but  they  know  well  from  whose  mind  that  good  originates, 
and.all  their  love  is  for  the  Pope.  Time  presses,  or  I  would  fain 
describe  in  detail  the  troupe  of  laborers  of  the  lower  class,  march 
ing  home  at  night,  keeping  step  as  if  they  were  in  the  National 
Guard,  filling  the  air,  and  cheering  the  melancholy  moon,  by  the 
patriotic  hymns  sung  with  the  mellow  tone  and  in  the  perfect 
time  which  belong  to  Italians.  I  would  describe  the  extempore 
concerts  in  the  streets,  the  rejoicings  at  the  theatres,  where  the 
addresses  of  liberal  souls  to  the  people,  through  that  best  vehicle, 
the  drama,  may  now  be  heard.  But  I  am  tired  ;  what  I  have  to 
write  would  fill  volumes,  and  my  letter  must  go.  I  will  only  add 
some  words  upon  the  happy  augury  I  draw  from  the  wise  docil 
ity  of  the  people.  With  what  readiness  they  listened  to  wise 
counsel,  and  the  hopes  of  the  Pope  that  they  would  give  no  ad 
vantage  to  his  enemies,  at  a  time  when  they  were  so  fevered  by 
the  knowledge  that  conspiracy  was  at  work  in  their  midst !  That 
was  a  time  of  trial.  On  all  these  occasions  of  popular  excitement 


248  THINGS    AND    THOUGHTS    IN    EUROPE. 

their  conduct  is  like  music,  in  such  order,  and  with  such  union  of 
the  melody  of  feeling  with  discretion  where  to  stop ;  but  what  is 
wonderful  is  that  they  acted  in  the  same  manner  on  that  difficult 
occasion.  The  influence  of  the  Pope  here  is  without  bounds  ;  he 
can  always  calm  the  crowd  at  once.  But  in  Tuscany,  where  they 
have  no  such  idol,  they  listened  in  the  same  way  on  a  very 
trying  occasion.  The  first  announcement  of  the  regulation  for 
the  Tuscan  National  Guard  terribly  disappointed  the  people; 
they  felt  that  the  Grand  Duke,  after  suffering  them  to  demon 
strate  such  trust  and  joy  on  the  feast  of  the  12th,  did  not  really 
trust,  on  his  side ;  that  he  meant  to  limit  them  all  he  could.  They 
felt  baffled,  cheated ;  hence  young  men  in  anger  tore  down  at 
once  the  symbols  of  satisfaction  and  respect ;  but  the  leading  men 
went  among  the  people,  begged  them  to  be  calm,  and  wait  till  a 
deputation  had  seen  the  Grand  Duke.  The  people,  listening  at 
once  to  men  who,  they  were  sure,  had  at  heart  their  best  good, 
waited ;  the  Grand  Duke  became  convinced,  and  all  ended  with 
out  disturbance.  If  they  continue  to  act  thus,  their  hopes  can 
not  be  baffled.  Certainly  I,  for  one,  do  not  think  that  the  pres 
ent  road  will  suffice  to  lead  Italy  to  her  goal.  But  it  is  an 
onward,  upward  road,  and  the  people  learn  as  they  advance. 
Now  they  can  seek  and  think  fearless  of  prisons  and  bayonets, 
a  healthy  circulation  of  blood  begins,  and  the  heart  frees  itself 
from  disease. 

I  earnestly  hope  for  some  expression  of  sympathy  from  my  coun 
try  toward  Italy.  Take  a  good  chance  and  do  something ;  you 
have  shown  much  good  feeling  toward  the  Old  World  in  its  physical 
difficulties,  —  you  ought  to  do  still  more  in  its  spiritual  endeavor. 
This  cause  is  OURS,  above  all  others ;  we  ought  to  show  that  we 
feel  it  to  be  so.  At  present  there  is  no  likelihood  of  war,  but  in 
case  of  it  I  trust  the  United  States  would  not  fail  in  some  noble 
token  of  sympathy  toward  this  country.  The  soul  of  our  nation 
need  not  wait  for  its  government ;  these  things  are  better  done 
by  individuals.  I  believe  some  in  the  United  States  will  pay 
attention  to  these  words  of  mine,  will  feel  that  I  am  not  a  per 
son  to  be  kindled  by  a  childish,  sentimental  enthusiasm,  but  that 


SYMPATHY    FROM    AMERICA.  249 

I  must  be  sure  I  have  seen  something  of  Italy  before  speaking 
as  I  do.  I  have  been  here  only  seven  months,  but  my  means  of 
observation  have  been  uncommon.  I  have  been  ardently  desirous 
to  judge  fairly,  and  had  no  prejudices  to  prevent ;  beside,  I  was 
not  ignorant  of  the  history  and  literature  of  Italy,  and  had  some 
common  ground  on  which  to  stand  with  its  inhabitants,  and  hear 
what  they  have  to  say.  In  many  ways  Italy  is  of  kin  to  us  ;  she 
is  the  country  of  Columbus,  of  Amerigo,  of  Cabot.  It  would 
please  me  much  to  see  a  cannon  here  bought  by  the  contributions 
of  Americans,  at  whose  head  should  stand  the  name  of  Cabot,  to 
be  used  by  the  Guard  for  salutes  on  festive  occasions,  if  they 
should  be  so  happy  as  to  have  no  more  serious  need.  In  Tus 
cany  they  are  casting  one  to  be  called  the  "  Gioberti,"  from  a 
writer  who  has  given  a  great  impulse  to  the  present  movement. 
I  should  like  the  gift  of  America  to  be  called  the  AMERIGO,  the 
COLUMBO,  or  the  WASHINGTON.  Please  think  of  this,  some  of 
my  friends,  who  still  care  for  the  eagle,  the  Fourth  of  July,  and 
the  old  cries  of  hope  and  honor.  See  if  there  are  any  objections 
that  I  do  not  think  of,  and  do  something  if  it  is  well  and  brotherly. 
Ah !  America,  with  all  thy  rich  boons,  thou  hast  a  heavy  account 
to  render  for  the  talent  given;  see  in  every  way  that  thou  be 
not  found  wanting. 


LETTER    XVIII. 

Reflections  for  the  New  Year.  —  Americans  in  Europe.  —  France,  England, 
Poland,  Italy,  Russia,  Austria, —  their  Policy. — Europe  toils  and  struggles. 
—  All  things  bode  a  new  Outbreak.  — The  Eagle  of  America  stoops  to  Earth, 
and  shares  the  Character  of  the  Vulture.  —  Abolition.  —  The  Youth  of  the 
Land.  —  Anticipations  of  their  Usefulness. 

THIS  letter  will  reach  the  United  States  about  the  1st  of  Jan 
uary  ;  and  it  may  not  be  impertinent  to  offer  a  few  New-Year's 
reflections.  Every  new  year,  indeed,  confirms  the  old  thoughts, 
but  also  presents  them  under  some  new  aspects. 

The  American  in  Europe,  if  a  thinking  mind,  can  only  become 
more  American.  In  some  respects  it  is  a  great  pleasure  to  be  here. 
Although  we  have  an  independent  political  existence,  our  position 
toward  Europe,  as  to  literature  and  the  arts,  is  still  that  of  a 
colony,  and  one  feels  the  same  joy  here  that  is  experienced  by 
the  colonist  in  returning  to  the  parent  home.  What  was  but 
picture  to  us  becomes  reality  ;  remote  allusions  and  derivations 
trouble  no  more :  we  see  the  pattern  of  the  stuff,  and  understand 
the  whole  tapestry.  There  is  a  gradual  clearing  up  on  many 
points,  and  many  baseless  notions  and  crude  fancies  are  dropped. 
Even  the  post-haste  passage  of  the  business  American  through 
the  great  cities,  escorted  by  cheating  couriers  and  ignorant  valets 
de  place,  unable  to  hold  intercourse  with  the  natives  of  the  coun 
try,  and  passing  all  his  leisure  hours  with  his  countrymen,  who 
know  no  more  than  himself,  clears  his  mind  of  some  mistakes,  — 
lifts  some  mists  from  his  horizon. 

There  are  three  species.  First,  the  servile  American,  —  a  be 
ing  utterly  shallow,  thoughtless,  worthless.  He  comes  abroad  to 
spend  his  money  and  indulge  his  tastes.  His  object  in  Europe 


AMERICANS    IN    EUROPE.  251 

is  to  have  fashionable  clothes,  good  foreign  cookery,  to  know  some 
titled  persons,  and  furnish  himself  with  coffee-house  gossip,  by  re 
tailing  which  among  those  less  travelled  and  as  uninformed  as 
himself  he  can  win  importance  at  home.  I  look  with  unspeaka 
ble  contempt  on  this  class,  —  a  class  which  has  all  the  thought 
lessness  and  partiality  of  the  exclusive  classes  in  Europe,  without 
any  of  their  refinement,  or  the  chivalric  feeling  which  still  sparkles 
among  them  here  and  there.  However,  though  these  willing  serfs 
in  a  free  age  do  some  little  hurt,  and  cause  some  annoyance  at 
present,  they  cannot  continue  long  ;  our  country  is  fated  to  a  grand, 
independent  existence,  and,  as  its  laws  develop,  these  parasites  of 
a  bygone  period  must  wither  and  drop  away. 

Then  there  is  the  conceited  American,  instinctively  bristling 
and  proud  of —  he  knows  not  what.  He  does  not  see,  not  he, 
that  the  history  of  Humanity  for  many  centuries  is  likely  to  have 
produced  results  it  requires  some  training,  some  devotion,  to  ap 
preciate  and  profit  by.  With  his  great  clumsy  hands,  only  fitted 
to  work  on  a  steam-engine,  he  seizes  the  old  Cremona  violin, 
makes  it  shriek  with  anguish  in  his  grasp,  and  then  declares  he 
thought  it  was  all  humbug  before  he  came,  and  now  he  knows  it ; 
that  there  is  not  really  any  music  in  these  old  things  ;  that  the 
frogs  in  one  of  our  swamps  make  much  finer,  for  they  are  young 
and  alive.  To  him  the  etiquettes  of  courts  and  camps,  the  ritual 
of  the  Church,  seem  simply  silly,  —  and  no  wonder,  profoundly 
ignorant  as  he  is  of  their  origin  and  meaning.  Just  so  the  legends 
which  are  the  subjects  of  pictures,  the  profound  myths  which  are 
represented  in  the  antique  marbles,  amaze  and  revolt  him  ;  as, 
indeed,  such  things  need  to  be  judged  of  by  another  standard  than 
that  of  the  Connecticut  Blue-Laws.  He  criticises  severely  pic 
tures,  feeling  quite  sure  that  his  natural  senses  are  better  means 
of  judgment  than  the  rules  of  connoisseurs,  —  not  feeling  that,  to 
see  such  objects,  mental  vision  as  well  as  fleshly  eyes  are  needed; 
and  that  something  is  aimed  at  in  Art  beyond  the  imitation  of  the 
commonest  forms  of  Nature.  This  is  Jonathan  in  the  sprawling 
state,  the  booby  truant,  not  yet  aspiring  enough  to  be  a  good  school 
boy.  Yet  in  his  folly  there  is  meaning ;  add  thought  and  culture 


252  THINGS    AND    THOUGHTS    IN    EUROPE. 

to  his  independence,  and  he  will  be  a  man  of  might :  he  is  not  a 
creature  without  hope,  like  the  thick-skinned  dandy  of  the  class 
first  specified. 

The  artistes  form  a  class  by  themselves.  Yet  among  them, 
though  seeking  special  aims  by  special  means,  may  also  be  found 
the  lineaments  of  these  two  classes,  as  well  as  of  the  third,  of  which 
I  am  now  to  speak. 

This  is  that  of  the  thinking  American,  — a  man  who,  recogniz 
ing  the  immense  advantage  of  being  born  to  a  new  world  and  on 
a  virgin  soil,  yet  does  not  wish  one  seed  from  the  past  to  be  lost. 
He  is  anxious  to  gather  and  carry  back  with  him  every  plant  that 
will  bear  a  new  climate  and  new  culture.  Some  will  dwindle ; 
others  will  attain  a  bloom  and  stature  unknown  before.  He  wishes 
to  gather  them  clean,  free  from  noxious  insects,  and  to  give  them 
a  fair  trial  in  his  new  world.  And  that  he  may  know  the  conditions 
under  which  he  may  best  place  them  in  that  new  world,  he  does 
not  neglect  to  study  their  history  in  this. 

The  history  of  our  planet  in  some  moments  seems  so  painfully 
mean  and  little,  —  such  terrible  bafnings  and  failures  to  compensate 
some  brilliant  successes,  —  such  a  crushing  of  the  mass  of  men 
beneath  the  feet  of  a  few,  and  these,  too,  often  the  least  worthy,  — 
such  a  small  drop  of  honey  to  each  cup  of  gall,  and,  in  many  cases, 
so  mingled  that  it  is  never  one  moment  in  life  purely  tasted,  — 
above  all,  so  little  achieved  for  Humanity  as  a  whole,  such  tides 
of  war  and  pestilence  intervening  to  blot  out  the  traces  of  each 
triumph,  —  that  no  wonder  if  the  strongest  soul  sometimes  pauses 
aghast;  no  wonder  if  the  many  indolently  console  themselves 
with  gross  joys  and  frivolous  prizes.  Yes  !  those  men  are  worthy 
of  admiration  who  can  carry  this  cross  faithfully  through  fifty 
years  ;  it  is  a  great  while  for  all  the  agonies  that  beset  a  lover  of 
good,  a  lover  of  men  ;  it  makes  a  soul  worthy  of  a  speedier  ascent, 
a  more  productive  ministry  in  the  next  sphere.  Blessed  are  they 
who  ever  keep  that  portion  of  pure,  generous  love  with  which 
they  began  life !  How  blessed  those  who  have  deepened  the 
fountains,  and  have  enough  to  spare  for  the  thirst  of  others ! 
Some  such  there  are  ;  and,  feeling  that,  with  all  the  excuses  for 


PRESENT    STATE    OF    EUROPE.  253 

failure,  still  only  the  sight  of  those  who  triumph  gives  a  meaning 
to  life  or  makes  its  pangs  endurable,  we  must  arise  and  follow. 

Eighteen  hundred  years  of  this  Christian  culture  in  these  Eu 
ropean  kingdoms,  a  great  theme  never  lost  sight  of,  a  mighty 
idea,  an  adorable  history  to  which  the  hearts  of  men  invariably 
cling,  yet  are  genuine  results  rare  as  grains  of  gold  in  the  river's 
sandy  bed !  Where  is  the  genuine  democracy  to  which  the 
rights  of  all  men  are  holy  ?  where  the  child-like  wisdom  learning 
all  through  life  more  and  more  of  the  will  of  God?  where  the 
aversion  to  falsehood,  in  all  its  myriad  disguises  of  cant,  vanity, 
covetousness,  so  clear  to  be  read  in  all  the  history  of  Jesus  of 
Nazareth  ?  Modern  Europe  is  the  sequel  to  that  history,  and 
see  this  hollow  England,  with  its  monstrous  wealth  and  cruel 
poverty,  its  conventional  life,  and  low,  practical  aims !  see  this 
poor  France,  so  full  of  talent,  so  adroit,  yet  so  shallow  and  glossy 
still,  which  could  not  escape  from  a  false  position  with  all  its  bap 
tism  of  blood !  see  that  lost  Poland,  and  this  Italy  bound  down  by 
treacherous  hands  in  all  the  force  of  genius  !  see  Russia  with  its 
brutal  Czar  and  innumerable  slaves  !  see  Austria  and  its  royalty 
that  represents  nothing,  and  its  people,  who,  as  people,  are  and 
have  nothing  !  If  we  consider  the  amount  of  truth  that  has  really 
been  spoken  out  in  the  world,  and  the  love  that  has  beat  in  pri 
vate  hearts,  —  how  genius  has  decked  each  spring-time  with  such 
splendid  flowers,  conveying  each  one  enough  of  instruction  in  its 
life  of  harmonious  energy,  and  how  continually,  unquenchably,  the 
spark  of  faith  has  striven  to  burst  into  flame  and  light  up  the 
universe,  —  the  public  failure  seems  amazing,  seems  monstrous. 

Still  Europe  toils  and  struggles  with  her  idea,  and,  at  this  mo 
ment,  all  things  bode  and  declare  a  new  outbreak  of  the  fire,  to 
destroy  old  palaces  of  crime !  May  it  fertilize  also  many  vine 
yards  !  Here  at  this  moment  a  successor  of  St.  Peter,  after  the 
lapse  of  near  two  thousand  years,  is  called  "  Utopian  "  by  a  part 
of  this  Europe,  because  he  strives  to  get  some  food  to  the  mouths 
of  the  leaner  of  his  flock.  A  wonderful  state  of  things,  and  which 
leaves  as  the  best  argument  against  despair,  that  men  do  not,  can 
not  despair  amid  such  dark  experiences.  And  thou,  my  Coun- 
22 


254  THINGS    AND    THOUGHTS    IN    EUROPE. 

try !  wilt  thou  not  be  more  true  ?  does  no  greater  success  aivnit 
thee  ?  All  things  have  so  conspired  to  teach,  to  aid  !  A  new 
world,  a  new  chance,  with  oceans  to  wall  in  the  new  thought 
against  interference  from  the  old  !  —  treasures  of  all  kinds,  gold, 
silver,  corn,  marble,  to  provide  for  every  physical  need  !  A 
noble,  constant,  starlike  soul,  an  Italian,  led  the  way  to  thy  shores, 
and,  in  the  first  days,  the  strong,  the  pure,  those  too  brave,  too 
sincere,  for  the  life  of  the  Old  World,  hastened  to  people  them. 
A  generous  struggle  then  shook  off  what  was  foreign,  and  gave 
the  nation  a  glorious  start  for  a  worthy  goal.  Men  rocked  the 
cradle  of  its  hopes,  great,  firm,  disinterested  men,  who  saw,  who 
wrote,  as  the  basis  of  all  that  was  to  be  done,  a  statement  of  the 
rights,  the  inborn  rights  of  men,  which,  if  fully  interpreted  and 
acted  upon,  leaves  nothing  to  be  desired. 

Yet,  0  Eagle !  whose  early  flight  showed  this  clear  sight  of  the 
sun,  how  often  dost  thou  near  the  ground,  how  show  the  vulture 
in  these  later  days  !  Thou  wert  to  be  the  advance-guard  of  hu 
manity,  the  herald  of  all  progress  ;  how  often  hast  thou  betrayed 
this  high  commission  !  Fain  would  the  tongue  in  clear,  trium 
phant  accents  draw  example  from  thy  story,  to  encourage  the 
hearts  of  those  who  almost  faint  and  die  beneath  the  old  oppres 
sions.  But  we  must  stammer  and  blush  when  we  speak  of  many 
things.  I.  take  pride  here,  that  I  can  really  say  the  liberty  of  the 
press  works  well,  and  that  checks  and  balances  are  found  natu 
rally  which  suffice  to  its  government.  I  can  say  that  the  minds 
of  our  people  are  alert,  and  that  talent  has  a  free  chance  to  rise. 
This  is  much.  But  dare  I  further  say  that  political  ambition  is 
not  as  darkly  sullied  as  in  other  countries  ?  Dare  I  say  that  men 
of  most  influence  in  political  life  are  those  who  represent  most 
virtue,  or  even  intellectual  power  ?  Is  it  easy  to  find  names  in 
that  career  of  which  I  can  speak  with  enthusiasm  ?  Must  I  not 
confess  to  a  boundless  lust  of  gain  in  my  country  ?  Must  I  not 
concede  the  weakest  vanity,  which  bristles  and  blusters  at  each 
foolish  taunt  of  the  foreign  press,  and  admit  that  the  men  who 
make  these  undignified  rejoinders  seek  and  find  popularity  so  ? 
Can  I  help  admitting  that  there  is  as  yet  no  antidote  cordially 


THE    ABOLITIONISTS.  255 

adopted,  which  will  defend  even  that  great,  rich  country  against  the 
evils  that  have  grown  out  of  the  commercial  system  in  the  Old 
World  ?  Can  I  say  our  social  laws  are  generally  better,  or  show 
a  nobler  insight  into  the  wants  of  man  and  woman  ?  I  do,  indeed, 
say  what  I  believe,  that  voluntary-association  for  improvement  in 
these  particulars  will  be  the  grand  means  for  my  nation  to  grow, 
and  give  a  nobler  harmony  to  the  coming  age.  But  it  is  only  of  a 
small  minority  that  I  can  say  they  as  yet  seriously  take  to  heart 
these  things ;  that  they  earnestly  meditate  on  what  is  wanted  for 
their  country,  for  mankind,  —  for  our  cause  is  indeed  the  cause 
of  all  mankind  at  present.  jCould  we  succeed,  really  succeed, 
combine  a  deep  religious  love  with  practical  development,  the 
achievements  of  genius  with  the  happiness  of  the  multitude^  we 
might  believe  man  had  now  reached  a  commanding  point  in  his 
ascent,  and  would  stumble  and  faint  no  more.  Then  there  is  this  / 
horrible  cancer  of  slavery,  and  the  wicked  war  that  has  grown 
out  of  it.  How  dare  I  speak  of  these  things  here  ?  I  listen  to 
the  same  arguments  against  the  emancipation  of  Italy,  that  are 
used  against  the  emancipation  of  our  blacks ;  the  same  arguments 
in  favor  of  the  spoliation  of  Poland,  as  for  the  conquest  of  Mexico. 
I  find  the  cause  of  tyranny  and  wrong  everywhere  the  same,  — 
and  lo  !  my  country  !  the  darkest  offender,  because  with  the  least  J 
excuse  ;  forsworn  to  the  high  calling  with  which  she  was  called ; 
no  champion  of  the  rights  of  men,  but  a  robber  and  a  jailer ;  the 
scourge  hid  behind  her  banner ;  her  eyes  fixed,  not  on  the  stars, 
but  on  the  possessions  of  other  men. 

How  it  pleases  me  here  to  think  of  the  Abolitionists  !  I  could 
never  endure  to  be  with  them  at  home,  they  were  so  tedious, 
often  so  narrow,  always  so  rabid  and  exaggerated  in  their  tone. 
But,  after  all,  they  had  a  high  motive,  something  eternal  in  their 
desire  and  life ;  and  if  it  was  not  the  only  thing  worth  thinking 
of,  it  was  really  something  worth  living  and  dying  for,  to  free  a 
great  nation  from  such  a  terrible  blot,  such  a  threatening  plague. 
God  strengthen  them,  and  make  them  wise  to  achieve  their 
purpose ! 

I  please  myself,  too,  with  remembering  some  ardent  souls  among 


256  THINGS    AND    THOUGHTS    IN    EUROPE. 

the  American  youth,  who  I  trust  will  yet  expand,  and  help  to 
give  soul  to  the  huge,  over-fed,  too  hastily  grown-up  body.  May 
they  be  constant !  "  Were  man  but  constant,  he  were  perfect," 
it  has  been  said  ;  and  it  is  true  that  he  who  could  be  constant  to 
those  moments  in  which  he  has  been  truly  human,  not  brutal, 
not  mechanical,  is  on  the  sure  path  to  his  perfection,  and  to 
effectual  service  of  the  universe. 

It  is  to  the  youth  that  hope  addresses  itself ;  to  those  who  yet 
burn  with  aspiration,  who  are  not  hardened  in  their  sins.  But  I 
dare  not  expect  too  much  of  them.  I  am  not  very  old ;  yet  of 
those  who,  in  life's  morning,  I  saw  touched  by  the  light  of  a  high 
hope,  many  have  seceded.  Some  have  become  voluptuaries  ;  some, 
mere  family  men,  who  think  it  quite  life  enough  to  win  bread 
for  half  a  dozen  people,  and  treat  them  decently  ;  others  are  lost 
through  indolence  and  vacillation.  Yet  some  remain  constant ; 

"  I  have  witnessed  many  a  shipwreck, 
Yet  still  beat  noble  hearts/' 

I  have  found  many  among  the  youth  of  England,  of  France, 
of  Italy,  also,  full  of  high  desire  ;  but  will  they  have  courage  and 
purity  to  fight  the  battle  through  in  the  sacred,  the  immortal 
band  ?  Of  some  of  them  I  believe  it,  and  await  the  proof.  If 
a  few  succeed  amid  the  trial,  we  have  not  lived  and  loved  in 
vain. 

To  these,  the  heart  and  hope  of  my  country,  a  happy  new  year  ! 
I  do  not  know  what  I  have  written ;  I  have  merely  yielded  to  my 
feelings  in  thinking  of  America  ;  but  something  of  true  love  must 
be  in  these  lines.  Receive  them  kindly,  my  friends  ;  it  is,  of  itself, 
some  merit  for  printed  words  to  be  sincere. 


LETTER    XIX. 

The  Climate  of  Italy. — Review  of  First  Impressions.  —  Rome  in  its  various 
Aspects.  —  The  Pope.  —  Cemetery  of  Santo  Spirito.  —  Ceremonies  at  the  Chap 
els.  —  The  Women  of  Italy.  —  Festival  of  St.  Carlo  Borromeo.  —  An  Incident 
in  the  Chapel.  —  English  Residents  in  the  Seven-hilled  City.  —  Mrs.  Trollope 
a  Resident  of  Florence.  —  The  Pope  as  he  communicates  with  his  People.  — 
The  Position  of  Affairs.  —  Lesser  Potentates.  —  The  Inauguration  of  the  New 
Council.  —  The  Ceremonies  thereto  appertaining.  —  The  American  Flag  in 
Rome.  —  A  Ball.  —  A  Feast,  and  its  Reverse.  —  The  Funeral  of  a  Councillor. 

Rome,  December  17,  1847. 

THIS  17th  day  of  December  I  rise  to  see  the  floods  of  sun 
light  blessing  us,  as  they  have  almost  every  day  since  I  re 
turned  to  Rome,  —  two  months  and  more,  —  with  scarce  three 
or  four  days  of  rainy  weather.  I  still  see  the  fresh  roses  and 
grapes  each  morning  on  my  table,  though  both  these  I  expect  to 
give  up  at  Christmas. 

This  autumn  is  something  like,  as  my  countrymen  say  at 
home.  Like  what,  they  do  not  say  ;  so  I  always  supposed  they 
meant  like  their  ideal  standard.  Certainly  this  weather  corre 
sponds  with  mine  ;  and  I  begin  to  believe  the  climate  of  Italy  is 
really  what  it  has  been  represented.  Shivering  here  last  spring 
in  an  air  no  better  than  the  cruel  east  wind  of  Puritan  Boston,  I 
thought  all  the  praises  lavished  on 

"Italia,  0  Italia!" 

would  turn  out  to  be  figments  of  the  brain  ;  and  that  even  Byron, 
usually  accurate  beyond  the  conception  of  plodding  pedants,  had 
deceived  us  when  he  says,  you  have  the  happiness  in  Italy  to 

"  See  the  sun  set,  sure  he  '11  rise  to-morrow," 
22* 


258  THINGS    AND    THOUGHTS    IN   EUROPE. 

and  not,  according  to  a  view  which  exercises  a  withering  influence 
on  the  enthusiasm  of  youth  in  my  native  land,  be  forced  to  regard 
each  pleasant  day  as  a  weather-breeder. 

How  delightful,  too,  is  the  contrast  between  this  time  and  the 
spring  in  another  respect !  Then  I  was  here,  like  travellers  in 
general,  expecting  to  be  driven  away  in  a  short  time.  Like 
others,  I  went  through  the  painful  process  of  sight-seeing,  so  un 
natural  everywhere,  so  counter  to  the  healthful  methods  and 
true  life  of  the  mind.  You  rise  in  the  morning  knowing  there  are 
a  great  number  of  objects  worth  knowing,  which  you  may  never 
have  the  chance  to  see  again.  You  go  every  day,  in  all  moods, 
under  all  circumstances ;  feeling,  probably,  in  seeing  them,  the 
inadequacy  of  your  preparation  for  understanding  or  duly  receiv 
ing  them.  This  consciousness  would  be  most  valuable  if  one  had 
time  to  think  and  study,  being  the  natural  way  in  which  the  mind 
is  lured  to  cure  its  defects;  but  you  have  no  time  ;  you  are  always 
wearied,  body  and  mind,  confused,  dissipated,  sad.  The  objects 
are  of  commanding  beauty  or  full  of  suggestion,  but  there  is  no 
quiet  to  let  that  beauty  breathe  its  life  into  the  soul ;  no  time  to 
follow  up  these  suggestions,  and  plant  for  the  proper  harvest. 
Many  persons  run  about  Rome  for  nine  days,  and  then  go  away  ; 
they  might  as  well  expect  to  appreciate  the  Venus  by  throwing  a 
stone  at  it,  as  hope  really  to  see  Rome  in  this  time.  I  stayed  in 
Rome  nine  weeks,  and  came  away  unhappy  as  he  who,  having 
been  taken  in  the  visions  of  the  night  through  some  wondrous 
realm,  wakes  unable  to  recall  anything  but  the  hues  and  outlines 
of  the  pageant ;  the  real  knowledge,  the  recreative  power  induced 
by  familiar  love,  the  assimilation  of  its  soul  and  substance,  —  all 
the  true  value  of  such  a  revelation,  —  is  wanting;  and  he  remains 
a  poor  Tantalus,  hungrier  than  before  he  had  tasted  this  spiritual 
food. 

No ;  Rome  is  not  a  nine-days  wonder ;  and  those  who  try  to 
make  it  such  lose  the  ideal  Rome  (if  they  ever  had  it),  without 
gaining  any  notion  of  the  real.  To  those  who  travel,  as  they 
do  everything  else,  only  because  others  do,  I  do  not  speak  ;  they 
P  are  nothing.  Nobody  counts  in  the  qstimate  of  the  human  race 
who  has  not  a  character. 


ROME    IN    ITS    VARIOUS    ASPECTS.  259 

For  one,  I  now  really  live  in  Rome,  and  I  begin  to  see  and  feel 
the  real  Rome.  She  reveals  herself  day  by  day  ;  she  tells  me 
some  of  her  life.  Now  I  never  go  out  to  see  a  sight,  but  I  walk 
every  day ;  and  here  I  cannot  miss  of  some  object  of  consummate 
interest  to  end  a  walk.  In  the  evenings,  which  are  long  now,  I 
am  at  leisure  to  follow  up  the  inquiries  suggested  by  the  day. 

As  one  becomes  familiar,  Ancient  and  Modern  Rome,  at  first  so 
painfully  and  discordantly  jumbled  together,  are  drawn  apart  to 
the  mental  vision.  One  sees  where  objects  and  limits  anciently 
were;  the  superstructures  vanish,  and  you  recognize  the  local 
habitation  of  so  many  thoughts.  When  this  begins  to  happen, 
one  feels  first  truly  at  ease  in  Rome.  Then  the  old  kings,  the 
consuls  and  tribunes,  the  emperors,  drunk  with  blood  and  gold, 
the  warriors  of  eagle  sight  and  remorseless  beak,  return  for  us, 
and  the  togated  procession  finds  room  to  sweep  across  the  scene  ; 
the  seven  hills  tower,  the  innumerable  temples  glitter,  and  the 
Via  Sacra  swarms  with  triumphal  life  once  more. 

Ah  !  how  joyful  to  see  once  more  this  Rome,  instead  of  the 
pitiful,  peddling,  Anglicized  Rome,  first  viewed  in  unutterable 
dismay  from  the  coupe  of  the  vettura,  —  a  Rome  all  full  of 
taverns,  lodging-houses,  cheating  chambermaids,  vilest  valets  de 
place,  and  fleas  !  A  Niobe  of  nations  indeed  !  Ah  !  why,  secretly 
the  heart  blasphemed,  did  the  sun  omit  to  kill  her  too,  when  all 
the  glorious  race  which  wore  her  crown  fell  beneath  his  ray  ? 
Thank  Heaven,  it  is  possible  to  wash  away  all  this  dirt,  and 
come  at  the  marble  yet. 

Then  the  later  Papal  Rome :  it  requires  much  acquaintance, 
much  thought,  much  reference  to  books,  for  the  child  of  Protestant 
Republican  America  to  see  where  belong  the  legends  illustrated 
by  rite  and  picture,  the  sense  of  all  the  rich  tapestry,  where  it 
has  a  united  and  poetic  meaning,  where  it  is  broken  by  some 
accident  of  history.  For  all  these  things  —  a  senseless  mass  of 
juggleries  to  the  uninformed  eye  —  are  really  growths  of  the 
human  spirit  struggling  to  develop  its  life,  and  full  of  instruction 
for  those  who  learn  to  understand  them. 

Then  Modern  Rome,  —  still  ecclesiastical,  still  darkened  and 


2 GO  THINGS    AND    THOUGHTS    IN   EUROPE. 

damp  in  the  shadow  of  the  Vatican,  but  where  bright  hopes  gleam 
now  amid  the  ashes !  Never  was  a  people  who  have  had  more  to 
corrupt  them,  —  bloody  tyranny,  and  incubus  of  priestcraft,  the 
invasions,  first  of  Goths,  then  of  trampling  emperors  and  kings, 
then  of  sight-seeing  foreigners,  —  everything  to  turn  them  from  a 
sincere,  hopeful,  fruitful  life ;  and  they  are  much  corrupted,  but 
still  a  fine  race.  I  cannot  look  merely  with  a  pictorial  eye  on 
the  lounge  of  the  Roman  dandy,  the  bold,  Juno  gait  of  the  Roman 
Contadina.  I  love  them,  —  dandies  and  all  ?  I  believe  the 
natural  expression  of  these  fine  forms  will  animate  them  yet. 
Certainly  there  never  was  a  people  that  showed  a  better  heart 
than  they  do  in  this  day  of  love,  of  purely  moral  influence.  It 
makes  me  very  happy  to  be  for  once  in  a  place  ruled  by  a  father's 
love,  and  where  the  pervasive  glow  of  one  good,  generous  heart 
is  felt  in  every  pulse  of  every  day. 

I  have  seen  the  Pope  several  times  since  my  return,  and  it  is  a 
real  pleasure  to  see  him  in  the  thoroughfares,  where  his  passage 
is  always  greeted  as  that  of  the  living  soul. 

The  first  week  of  November  there  is  much  praying  for  the 
dead  here  in  the  chapels  of  the  cemeteries.  I  went  to  Santo 
Spirito.  This  cemetery  stands  high,  and  all  the  way  up  the 
slope  was  lined  with  beggars  petitioning  for  alms,  in  every  atti 
tude  and  tone,  (I  mean  tone  that  belongs  to  the  professional  beg 
gar's  gamut,  for  that  is  peculiar,)  and  under  every  pretext  imagi 
nable,  from  the  quite  legless  elderly  gentleman  to  the  ragged 
ruffian  with  the  roguish  twinkle  in  his  eye,  who  has  merely  a  slight 
stiffness  in  one  arm  and  one  leg.  I  could  not  help  laughing,  it 
was  such  a  show,  —  greatly  to  the  alarm  of  my  attendant,  who 
declared  they  would  kill  me,  if  ever  they  caught  me  alone  ;  but  I 
was  not  afraid.  I  am  sure  the  endless  falsehood  in  which  such 
creatures  live  must  make  them  very  cowardly.  We  entered  the 
cemetery ;  it  was  a  sweet,  tranquil  place,  lined  with  cypresses, 
and  soft  sunshine  lying  on  the  stone  coverings  where  repose  the 
houses  of  clay  in  which  once  dwelt  joyous  Roman  hearts,  —  for 
the  hearts  here  do  take  pleasure  in  life.  There  were  several 
chapels ;  in  one  boys  were  chanting,  in  others  people  on  their 


CEMETERY    OF    SANTO    SPIRITO.  261 

knees  silently  praying  for  the  dead.  In  another  was  one  of  the 
groups  in  wax  exhibited  in  such  chapels  through  the  first  week 
of  November.  It  represented  St.  Carlo  Borromeo  as  a  beautiful 
young  man  in  a  long  scarlet  robe,  pure  and  brilliant  as  was  the 
blood  of  the  martyrs,  relieving  the  poor  who  were  grouped  around 
him,  —  old  people  and  children,  the  halt,  the  maimed,  the  blind  ; 
he  had  called  them  all  into  the  feast  of  love.  The  chapel  was 
lighted  and  draped  so  as  to  give  very  good  effect  to  this  group  J 
the  spectators  were  mainly  children  and  young  girls,  listening 
with  ardent  eyes,  while  their  parents  or  the  nuns  explained  to 
them  the  group,  or  told  some  story  of  the  saint.  It  was  a  pretty 
scene,  only  marred  by  the  presence  of  a  villanous-looking  man, 
who  ever  and  anon  shook  the  poor's  box.  I  cannot  understand 
the  bad  taste  of  choosing  him,  when  there  were  frati  and  priests 
enough  of  expression  less  unprepossessing. 

I  next  entered  a  court-yard,  where  the  stations,  or  different 
periods  in  the  Passion  of  Jesus,  are  painted  on  the  wall.  Kneel 
ing  before  these  were  many  persons :  here  a  Franciscan,  in 
his  brown  robe  and  cord  ;  there  a  pregnant  woman,  uttering, 
doubtless,  some  tender  aspiration  for  the  welfare  of  the  yet  unborn 
dear  one ;  there  some  boys,  with  gay  yet  reverent  air ;  while  all 
the  while  these  fresh  young  voices  were  heard  chanting.  It 
was  a  beautiful  moment,  and  despite  the  wax  saint,  the  ill-favored 
friar,  the  professional  mendicants,  and  my  own  removal,  wide  as 
pole  from  pole,  from  the  position  of  mind  indicated  by  these 
forms,  their  spirit  touched  me,  and  I  prayed  too ;  prayed  for  the 
distant,  every  way  distant,  —  for  those  who  seem  to  have  forgot 
ten  me,  and  with  me  all  we  had  in  common  ;  prayed  for  the 
dead  in  spirit,  if  not  in  body ;  prayed  for  myself,  that  I  might 
never  walk  the  earth 

"  The  tomb  of  my  dead  self" ; 

and  prayed  in  general  for  all  unspoiled  and  loving  hearts,  —  no 
less  for  all  who  suffer  and  find  yet  no  helper. 

Going  out,  I  took  my  road  by  the  cross  which  marks  the  brow 
of  the  hill.  Up  the  ascent  still  wound  the  crowd  of  devotees,  and 


262  THINGS    AND    THOUGHTS    IN   EUROPE. 

still  the  beggars  beset  them.  Amid  that  crowd,  how  many  lovely, 
warm-hearted  women  !  The  women  of  Italy  are  intellectually  in 
a  low  place,  but  —  they  are  unaffected ;  you  can  see  what  Heaven 
meant  them  to  be,  and  I  believe  they  will  be  yet  the  mothers  of 
a  great  and  generous  race.  Before  me  lay  Rome,  —  how  exqui 
sitely  tranquil  in  the  sunset !  Never  was  an  aspect  that  for  serene 
grandeur  could  vie  with  that  of  Rome  at  sunset. 

Next  day  was  the  feast  of  the  Milanese  saint,  whose  life  has 
been  made  known  to  some  Americans  by  Manzoni,  when  speak 
ing  in  his  popular  novel  of  the  cousin  of  St.  Carlo,  Federigo  Bor- 
romeo.  The  Pope  came  in  state  to  the  church  of  St.  Carlo,  in 
the  Corso.  The  show  was  magnificent ;  the  church  is  not  very 
large,  and  was  almost  filled  with  Papal  court  and  guards,  in  all 
their  splendid  harmonies  of  color.  An  Italian  child  was  next  me, 
a  little  girl  of  four  or  five  years,  whom  her  mother  had  brought  to 
see  the  Pope.  As  in  the  intervals  of  gazing  the  child  smiled  and 
made  signs  to  me,  I  nodded  in  return,  and  asked  her  name.  "  Vir 
ginia,"  said  she ;  "  and  how  is  the  Signora  named  ?  "  "  Mar- 
gherita."  "My  name,"  she  rejoined,  "is  Virginia  Gentili."  I 
laughed,  but  did  not  follow  up  the  cunning,  graceful  lead,  —  still 
I  chatted  and  played  with  her  now  and  then.  At  last,  she  said 
to  her  mother,  "  La  Signora  e  molto  cara,"  ("  The  Signora  is  very 
dear,"  or,  to  use  the  English  equivalent,  a  darling,)  "  show  her 
my  two  sisters."  So  the  mother,  herself  a  fine-looking  woman, 
introduced  two  handsome  young  ladies,  and  with  the  family  I  was 
in  a  moment  pleasantly  intimate  for  the  hour. 

Before  me  sat  three  young  English  ladies,  the  pretty  daughters 
of  a  noble  Earl ;  their  manners  were  a  strange  contrast  to  this 
Italian  graciousness,  best  expressed  by  their  constant  use  of  the 
pronoun  that.  "  See  that  man ! "  (i.  e.  some  high  dignitary  of 
the  Church,)  "  Look  at  that  dress  ! "  dropped  constantly  from 
their  lips.  Ah  !  without  being  a  Catholic,  one  may  well  wish 
Rome  was  not  dependent  on  English  sight-seers,  who  violate  her 
ceremonies  with  acts  that  bespeak  their  thoughts  full  of  wooden 
shoes  and  warming-pans.  Can  anything  be  more  sadly  expres 
sive  of  times  out  of  joint  than  the  fact  that  Mrs.  Trollope  is  a  resi- 


THE   POPE.  263 

dent  in  Italy  ?  Yes  !  she  is  fixed  permanently  in  Florence,  as  I 
am  told,  pensioned  at  the  rate  of  two  thousand  pounds  a  year  to 
trail  her  slime  over  the  fruit  of  Italy.  She  is  here  in  Rome  this 
winter,  and,  after  having  violated  the  virgin  beauty  of  America, 
will  have  for  many  a  year  her  chance  to  sully  the  imperial  ma 
tron  of  the  civilized  world.  What  must  the  English  public  be,  if 
it  wishes  to  pay  two  thousand  pounds  a  year  to  get  Italy  Trol- 
lopified  ? 

But  to  turn  to  a  pleasanter  subject.  When  the  Pope  entered, 
borne  in  his  chair  of  state  amid  the  pomp  of  his  tiara  and  his  white 
and  gold  robes,  he  looked  to  me  thin,  or,  as  the  Italians  mur 
mur  anxiously  at  times,  consumato,  or  wasted.  But  during  the 
ceremony  he  seemed  absorbed  in  his  devotions,  and  at  the  end  I 
think  he  had  become  exhilarated  by  thinking  of  St.  Carlo,  who 
was  such  another  over  the  human  race  as  himself,  and  his  face 
wore  a  bright  glow  of  faith.  As  he  blessed  the  people,  he  raised 
his  eyes  to  Heaven,  with  a  gesture  quite  natural :  it  was  the  spon 
taneous  act  of  a  soul  which  felt  that  moment  more  than  usual  its 
relation  with  things  above  it,  and  sure  of  support  from  a  higher 
Power.  I  saw  him  to  still  greater  advantage  a  little  while  after, 
when,  riding  on  the  Campagna  with  a  young  gentleman  who  had 
been  ill,  we  met  the  Pope  on  foot,  taking  exercise.  He  often 
quits  his  carriage  at  the  gates  and  walks  in  this  way.  He  walked 
rapidly,  robed  in  a  simple  white  drapery,  hvo  young  priests  in 
spotless  purple  on  either  side ;  they  gave  silver  to  the  poor 
who  knelt  beside  the  way,  while  the  beloved  Father  gave  his 
benediction.  My  companion  knelt ;  he  is  not  a  Catholic,  but 
he  felt  that  "  this  blessing  would  do  him  no  harm."  The  Pope 
saw  at  once  he  was  ill,  and  gave  him  a  mark  of  interest,  with  that 
expression  of  melting  love,  the  true,  the  only  charity,  which  as 
sures  all  who  look  on  him  that,  were  his  power  equal  to  his  will, 
no  living  thing  would  ever  suffer  more.  This  expression  the 
artists  try  in  vain  to  catch  ;  all  busts  and  engravings  of  him  are 
caricatures  ;  it  is  a  magnetic  sweetness,  a  lambent  light  that  plays 
over  his  features,  and  of  which  only  great  genius  or  a  soul  tender 
as  his  own  would  form  an  adequate  image. 


264  THINGS    AND    THOUGHTS    IN    EUROPE. 

The  Italians  have  one  term  of  praise  peculiarly  characteristic 
of  their  highly  endowed  nature.  They  say  of  such  and  such, 
Ha  una  phisonomia  simpatica,  —  "  He  has  a  sympathetic  expres 
sion  "  ;  and  this  is  praise  enough.  This  may  be  pre-eminently 
said  of  that  of  Pius  IX.  He  looks,  indeed,  as  if  nothing  human 
could  be  foreign  to  him.  Such  alone  are  the  genuine  kings  of 
men. 

He  has  shown  undoubted  wisdom,  clear-sightedness,  bravery, 
and  firmness ;  but  it  is,  above  all,  his  generous  human  heart  that 
gives  him  his  power  over  this  people.  His  is  a  face  to  shame  the 
selfish,  redeem  the  sceptic,  alarm  the  wicked,  and  cheer  to  new 
effort  the  weary  and  heavy-laden.  What  form  the  issues  of  his 
life  may  take  is  yet  uncertain ;  in  my  belief,  they  are  such  as  he 
does  not  think  of ;  but  they  cannot  fail  to  be  for  good.  For  my 
part,  I  shall  always  rejoice  to  have  been  here  in  his  time.  The 
working  of  his  influence  confirms  my  theories,  and  it  is  a  positive 
treasure  to  me  to  have  seen  him.  I  have  never  been  presented, 
not  wishing  to  approach  so  real  a  presence  in  the  path  of  mere 
etiquette ;  I  am  quite  content  to  see  him  standing  amid  the  crowd, 
while  the  band  plays  the  music  he  has  inspired. 

"Sons  of  Kome,  awake!" 

Yes,  awake,  and  let  no  police-officer  put  you  again  to  sleep  in 
prison,  as  has  happened  to  those  who  were  called  by  the  Marseil 
laise. 

Affairs  look  well.  The  king  of  Sardinia  has  at  last,  though 
with  evident  distrust  and  heartlessness,  entered  the  upward 
path  in  a  way  that  makes  it  difficult  to  return.  The  Duke  of 
Modena,  the  most  senseless  of  all  these  ancient  gentlemen,  after 
publishing  a  declaration,  which  made  him  more  ridiculous  than 
would  the  bitterest  pasquinade  penned  by  another,  that  he  would 
fight  to  the  death  against  reform,  finds  himself  obliged  to  lend  an 
ear  as  to  the  league  for  the  customs  ;  and  if  he  joins  that,  other 
measures  follow  of  course.  Austria  trembles ;  and,  in  fine,  can 
not  sustain  the  point  of  Ferrara.  The  king  of  Naples,  after  hav 
ing  shed  much  blood,  for  which  he  has  a  terrible  account  to  render, 


INAUGURATION    OF    THE    COUNCIL.  265 

(ah !  how  many  sad,  fair  romances  are  to  tell  already  about  the 
Calabrian  difficulties  !)  still  finds  the  spirit  fomenting  in  his  peo 
ple  ;  he  cannot  put  it  down.  The  dragon's  teeth  are  sown,  and  the 
Lazzaroni  may  be  men  yet !  The  Swiss  affairs  have  taken  the 
right  direction;  and  good  will  ensue,  if  other  powers  act  with  de 
cent  honesty,  and  think  of  healing  the  wounds  of  Switzerland, 
rather  than  merely  of  tying  her  down,  so  that  she  cannot  annoy 
them. 

In  Rome,  here,  the  new  Council  is  inaugurated,  and  elections 
have  given  tolerable  satisfaction.  Already,  struggles  ended  in 
other  places  begin  to  be  renewed  here,  as  to  gas-lights,  introduc 
tion  of  machinery,  &c.  We  shall  see  at  the  end  of  the  winter 
how  they  have  gone  on.  At  any  rate,  the  wants  of  the  people  are, 
in  some  measure  represented  ;  and  already  the  conduct  of  those 
who  have  taken  to  themselves  so  large  a  portion  of  the  loaves  and 
fishes  on  the  very  platform  supposed  to  be  selected  by  Jesus  for 
a  general  feeding  of  his  sheep,  begins  to  be  the  subject  of  spoken 
as  well  as  whispered  animadversion.  Torlonia  is  assailed  in  his 
bank,  Campana  amid  his  urns  or  his  Monte  di  Pieti ;  but  these 
assaults  have  yet  to  be  verified. 

On  the  day  when  the  Council  was  to  be  inaugurated,  great  prep 
arations  were  made  by  representatives  of  other  parts  of  Italy,  and 
also  of  foreign  nations  friendly  to  the  cause  of  progress.  It  was 
considered  to  represent  the  same  fact  as  the  feast  of  the  12th  of 
September  in  Tuscany,  —  the  dawn  of  an  epoch  when  the  people 
shall  find  their  wants  and  aspirations  represented  and  guarded. 
The  Americans  showed  a  warm  interest ;  the  gentlemen  subscrib 
ing  to  buy  a  flag,  the  United  States  having  none  before  in  Rome, 
and  the  ladies  meeting  to  make  it.  The  same  distinguished  in 
dividual,  indeed,  who  at  Florence  made  a  speech  to  prevent  "  the 
American  eagle  being  taken  out  on  so  trifling  an  occasion,"  with 
similar  perspicuity  arid  superiority  of  view,  on  the  present  occa 
sion,  was  anxious  to  prevent  "  rash  demonstrations,  which  might 
embroil  the  United  States  with  Austria  "  ;  but  the  rash  youth  here 
present  rushed  on,  ignorant  how  to  value  his  Nestorian  prudence, 
—  fancying,  hot-headed  simpletons,  that  the  cause  of  Freedom  was 
23 


266  THINGS    AND    THOUGHTS    IN    EUROPE. 

the  cause  of  America,  and  her  eagle  at  home  wherever  the  sun 
shed  a  warmer  ray,  and  there  was  reason  to  hope  a  happier  life 
for  man.  So  they  hurried  to  buy  their  silk,  red,  white,  and 
blue,  and  inquired  of  recent  arrivals  how  many  States  there  are 
this  winter  in  the  Union,  in  order  to  making  the  proper  number 
of  stars.  A  magnificent  spread-eagle  was  procured,  not  without 
difficulty,  as  this,  once  the  eyrie  of  the  king  of  birds,  is  now  a 
rookery  rather,  full  of  black,  ominous  fowl,  ready  to  eat  the  har 
vest  sown  by  industrious  hands.  This  eagle,  having  previously 
spread  its  wings  over  a  piece  of  furniture  where  its  back  was  sus 
tained  by  the  wall,  was  somewhat  deficient  in  a  part  of  its  anatomy. 
But  we  flattered  ourselves  he  should  be  held  so  high  that  no  Ro 
man  eye,  if  disposed,  could  carp  and  criticise.  When  lo  !  just  as 
the  banner  was  ready  to  unfold  its  young  glories  in  the  home  of 
Horace,  Virgil,  and  Tacitus,  an  ordinance  appeared  prohibiting 
the  display  of  any  but  the  Roman  ensign. 

This  ordinance  was,  it  is  said,  caused  by  representations  made 
to  the  Pope  that  the  Oscurantists,  ever  on  the  watch  to  do  mis 
chief,  meant  to  make  this  the  occasiori  of  disturbance,  —  as  it  is 
their  policy  to  seek  to  create  irritation  here  ;  that  the  Neapoli 
tan  and  Lombardo- Venetian  flags  would  appear  draped  with  black, 
and  thus  the  signal  be  given  for  tumult.  I  cannot  help  thinking 
these  fears  were  groundless  ;  that  the  people,  on  their  guard,  would 
have  indignantly  crushed  at  once  any  of  these  malignant  efforts. 
However  that  may  be,  no  one  can  ever  be  really  displeased  with 
any  measure  of  the  Pope,  knowing  his  excellent  intentions.  But 
the  limitation  of  the  festival  deprived  it  of  the  noble  character  of 
the  brotherhood  of  nations  and  an  ideal  aim,  worn  by  that  of 
Tuscany.  The  Romans,  chilled  and  disappointed,  greeted  their 
Councillors  with  but  little  enthusiasm.  The  procession,  too,  was 
but  a  poor  affair  for  Rome.  Twenty-four  carriages  had  been  lent 
by  the  princes  and  nobles,  at  the  request  of  the  city,  to  convey  the 
Councillors.  I  found  something  symbolical  in  this.  Thus  will 
they  be  obliged  to  furnish  from  their  old  grandeur  the  vehicles  of 
the  new  ideas.  Each  deputy  was  followed  by  his  target  and  ban 
ner.  When  the  deputy  for  Ferrara  passed,  many  garlands  were 


THE    SALTAKELLO.  267 

thrown  upon  his  carriage.  There  has  been  deep  respect  and 
sympathy  felt  for  the  citizens  of  Ferrara,  they  have  conducted  so 
well  under  their  late  trying  circumstances.  They  contained  them 
selves,  knowing  that  the  least  indiscretion  would  give  a  handle 
for  aggression  to  the  enemies  of  the  good  cause.  But  the  daily 
occasions  of  irritation  must  have  been  innumerable,  and  they 
have  shown  much  power  of  wise  and  dignified  self-government. 

After  the  procession  passed,  I  attempted  to  go  on  foot  from  the 
Cafe  Novo,  in  the  Corso,  to  St.  Peter's,  to  see  the  decorations  of 
the  streets,  but  it  was  impossible.  In  that  dense,  but  most  viva 
cious,  various,  and  good-humored  crowd,  with  all  best  will  on  their 
part  to  aid  the  foreigner,  it  was  impossible  to  advance.  So  I  saw 
only  themselves;  but  that  was  a  great  pleasure.  There  is  so 
much  individuality  of  character  here,  that  it  is  a  great  entertain 
ment  to  be  in  a  crowd. 

In  the  evening,  there  was  a  ball  given  at  the  Argentina.  Lord 
Minto  was  there ;  Prince  Corsini,  now  Senator ;  the  Torlonias, 
in  uniform  of  the  Civic  Guard,  —  Princess  Torlonia  in  a  sash  of 
their  colors,  given  her  by  the  Civic  Guard,  which  she  waved 
often  in  answer  to  their  greetings.  But  the  beautiful  show  of  the 
evening  was  the  Trasteverini  dancing  the  Saltarello  in  their  most 
brilliant  costume.  I  saw  them  thus  to  much  greater  advantage 
than  ever  before.  Several  were  nobly  handsome,  and  danced 
admirably ;  it  was  really  like  Pinelli. 

The  Saltarello  enchants  me ;  in  this  is  really  the  Italian  wine, 
the  Italian  sun.  The  first  time,  I  saw  it  danced  one  night  very 
unexpectedly  near  the  Colosseum ;  it  carried  me  quite  beyond 
myself,  so  that  I  most  unamiably  insisted  on  staying,  while  the 
friends  in  my  company,  not  heated  by  enthusiasm  like  me,  were 
shivering  and  perhaps  catching  cold  from  the  damp  night-air.  I 
fear  they  remember  it  against  me ;  nevertheless  I  cherish  the 
memory  of  the  moments  wickedly  stolen  at  their  expense,  for  it 
is  only  the  first  time  seeing  such  a  thing  that  you  enjoy  a  pecu 
liar  delight.  But  since,  I  love  to  see  and  study  it  much. 

The  Pope,  in  receiving  the  Councillors,  made  a  speech,  —  such 
as  the  king  of  Prussia  intrenched  himself  in  on  a  similar  occasion, 


268  THINGS    AND    THOUGHTS    IN    EUROPE. 

only  much  better  and  shorter,  —  implying  that  he  meant  only  to 
improve,  not  to  reform,  and  should  keep  things  in  statu  quo,  safe 
locked  with  the  keys  of  St.  Peter.  This  little  speech  was  made, 
no  doubt,  more  to  reassure  czars,  emperors,  and  kings,  than  from 
the  promptings  of  the  spirit.  But  the  fact  of  its  necessity,  as 
well  as  the  inferior  freedom  and  spirit  of  the  Roman  journals  to 
those  of  Tuscany,  seems  to  say  that  the  pontifical  government, 
though  from  the  accident  of  this  one  man's  accession  it  has  taken 
the  initiative  to  better  times,  yet  may  not,  after  a  while,  from  its 
very  nature,  be  able  to  keep  in  the  vanguard. 

A  sad  contrast  to  the  feast  of  this  day  was  presented  by  the 
same  persons,  a  fortnight  after,  following  the  body  of  Silvani,  one 
of  the  Councillors,  who  died  suddenly.  The  Councillors,  the  dif 
ferent  societies  of  Rome,  a  corps  frati  bearing  tapers,  the  Civic 
Guard  with  drums  slowly  beating,  the  same  state  carriages  with 
their  liveried  attendants  all  slowly,  sadly  moving,  with  torches 
and  banners,  drooped  along  the  Corso  in  the  dark  night.  A 
single  horseman,  with  his  long  white  plume  and  torch  reversed, 
governed  the  procession  ;  it  was  the  Prince  Aldobrandini.  The 
whole  had  that  grand  effect  so  easily  given  by  this  artist  people, 
who  seize  instantly  the  natural  poetry  of  an  occasion,  and  with 
unanimous  tact  hasten  to  represent  it.  More  and  much  anon. 


LETTER    XX. 

Rome.  —Bad  Weather.  —  St.  Cecilia.  —  The  People's  Processions.  —  Taking  the 
Veil.  —  Festivities.  —  Political  Agitation.  —  Nobles.  —  Maria  Louisa.  —  Guic- 
cioli.  —  Parma.  —  Address  to  the  new  Sovereign.  —  The  New  York  Meeting  for 
Italy.  —  Address  to  the  Pope. 

Rome,  December  30,  1847. 

I  COULD  not,  in  my  last,  content  myself  with  praising  the  glori 
ous  weather.  I  wrote  in  the  last  day  of  it.  Since,  we  have  had 
a  fortnight  of  rain  falling  incessantly,  and  whole  days  and  nights 
of  torrents  such  as  are  peculiar  to  the  "  clearing-up  "  shower  in 
our  country. 

Under  these  circumstances,  I  have  found  my  lodging  in  the 
Corso  not  only  has  its  dark  side,  but  is  all  dark,  and  that  one  in 
the  Piazza  di  Spagne  would  have  been  better  for  me  in  this  re 
spect  ;  there  on  these  days,  the  only  ones  when  I  wish  to  stay  at 
home  and  write  and  study,  I  should  have  had  the  light.  Now,  if 
I  consulted  the  good  of  my  eyes,  I  should  have  the  lamp  lit  on 
first  rising  in  the  morning. 

"  Every  sweet  must  have  its  bitter,"  and  the  exchange  from  the 
brilliance  of  the  Italian  heaven  to  weeks  and  months  of  rain  and 
such  black  cloud,  is  unspeakably  dejecting.  For  myself,  at  the 
end  of  this  fortnight  without  exercise  or  light,  and  in  such  a  damp 
atmosphere,  I  find  myself  without  strength,  without  appetite, 
almost  without  spirits.  The  life  of  the  German  scholar  who 
studies  fifteen  hours  out  of  the  twenty-four,  or  that  of  the  Spiel 
berg  prisoner  who  could  live  through  ten,  fifteen,  twenty  years  of 
dark  prison  with  only  half  an  hour's  exercise  in  the  day,  is  to  me 
a  mystery.  How  can  the  brain,  the  nerves,  ever  support  it? 
We  are  made  to  keep  in  motion,  to  drink  the  air  and  light ;  to  me  V 
23* 


270  THINGS    AND    THOUGHTS    IN    EUROPE. 

these  are  needed  to  make  life  supportable,  the  physical  state  is  so 
difficult  and  full  of  pains  at  any  rate. 

I  am  sorry  for  those  who  have  arrived  just  at  this  time 
hoping  to  enjoy  the  Christmas  festivities.  Everything  was  spoiled 
by  the  weather.  I  went  at  half  past  ten  to  San  Luigi  Francese, 
a  church  adorned  with  some  of  Domenichino's  finest  frescos  on 
the  life  and  death  of  St.  Cecilia. 

This  name  leads  me  to  a  little  digression.  In  a  letter  to  Mr. 
Phillips,  the  dear  friend  of  our  revered  Dr.  Channing,  I  asked 
him  if  he  remembered  what  recumbent  statue  it  was  of  which  Dr. 
Channing  was  wont  to  speak  as  of  a  sight  that  impressed  him 
more  than  anything  else  in  Rome.  He  said,  indeed,  his  mood, 
and  the  unexpectedness  in  seeing  this  gentle,  saintly  figure  lying 
there  as  if  death  had  just  struck  her  down,  had  no  doubt  much 
influence  upon  him ;  but  still  he  believed  the  work  had  a  peculiar 
holiness  in  its  expression.  I  recognized  at  once  the  theme  of  his 
description  (the  name  he  himself  had  forgotten)  as  I  entered  the 
other  evening  the  lonely  church  of  St.  Cecilia  in  Trastevere. 
As  in  his  case,  it  was  twilight :  one  or  two  nuns  were  at  their 
devotions,  and  there  lay  the  figure  in  its  grave-clothes,  with  an 
air  so  gentle,  so  holy,  as  if  she  had  only  ceased  to  pray  as  the 
hand  of  the  murderer  struck  her  down.  Her  gentle  limbs  seemed 
instinct  still  with  soft,  sweet  life ;  the  expression  was  not  of  the 
heroine,  the  martyr,  so  much  as  of  the  tender,  angelic  woman.  I 
could  well  understand  the  deep  impression  made  upon  his  mind. 
The  expression  of  the  frescos  of  Domenichino  is  not  inharmoni 
ous  with  the  suggestions  of  this  statue. 

Finding  the  Mass  was  not  to  begin  for  some  time,  I  set  out  for 
the  Quirinal  to  see  the  Pope  return  from  that  noble  church,  Santa 
Maria  Maggiore,  where  he  officiated  this  night.  I  reached  the 
mount  just  as  he  was  returning.  A  few  torches  gleamed  before 
his  door ;  perhaps  a  hundred  people  were  gathered  together 
round  the  fountain.  Last  year  an  immense  multitude  waited  for 
him  there  to  express  their  affection  in  one  grand  good-night ;  the 
change  was  occasioned  partly  by  the  weather,  partly  by  other 
causes,  of  which  I  shall  speak  by  and  by.  Just  as  he  returned, 


TAKING   THE   VEIL.  271 

the  moon  looked  palely  out  from  amid  the  wet  clouds,  and  shone 
upon  the  fountain,  and  the  noble  figures  above  it,  and  the  long 
white  cloaks  of  the  Guardia  Nobile  who  followed  his  carriage  on 
horseback  ;  darker  objects  could  scarcely  be  seen,  except  by  the 
flickering  light  of  the  torches,  much  blown  by  the  wind.  I  then 
returned  to  San  Luigi.  The  effect  of  the  night  service  there  was 
very  fine ;  those  details  which  often  have  such  a  glaring,  mean 
look  by  day  are  lost  sight  of  in  the  night,  and  the  unity  of  impres 
sion  from  the  service  is  much  more  undisturbed.  The  music,  too, 
descriptive  of  that  era  which  promised  peace  on  earth,  good-will 
to  men,  was  very  sweet,  and  the  pastorale  particularly  soothed  the 
heart  amid  the  crowd  and  pompous  ceremonial.  But  here,  too, 
the  sweet  had  its  bitter,  in  the  vulgar  vanity  of  the  leader  of  the 
orchestra,  a  trait  too  common  in  such,  who,  not  content  with  mark 
ing  the  time  for  the  musicians,  made  his  stick  heard  in  the  remot 
est  nook  of  the  church  ;  so  that  what  would  have  been  sweet 
music,  and  flowed  in  upon  the  soul,  was  vulgarized  to  make  you 
remember  the  performers  and  their  machines. 

On  Monday  the  leaders  of  the  Guardia  Civica  paid  their  re 
spects  to  the  Pope,  who,  in  receiving  them,  expressed  his  con 
stantly  increasing  satisfaction  in  having  given  this  institution  to 
his  people.  The  same  evening  there  was  a  procession  with 
torches  to  the  Quirinal,  to  pay  the  homage  due  to  the  day  (Feast 
of  St.  John,  and  name-day  of  the  Pope,  Giovanni  Maria  Mastai)  ; 
but  all  the  way  the  rain  continually  threatened  to  extinguish  the 
torches,  and  the  Pope  could  give  but  a  hasty  salute  under  an 
umbrella,  when  the  heavens  were  again  opened,  and  such  a  cata 
ract  of  water  descended,  as  drove  both  man  and  beast  to  seek  the 
nearest  shelter. 

On  Sunday,  I  went  to  see  a  nun  take  the  veil.  She  was  a 
person  of  high  family ;  a  princess  gave  her  away,  and  the  Car 
dinal  Ferreti,  Secretary  of  State,  officiated.  It  was  a  much  less 
effective  ceremony  than  I  expected  from  the  descriptions  of  travel 
lers  and  romance-writers.  There  was  no  moment  of  throwing  on 
the  black  veil ;  no  peal  of  music  ;  no  salute  of  cannon.  The  nun, 
an  elegantly  dressed  woman  of  five  or  six  and  twenty,  —  pretty 


272  THINGS    AND    THOUGHTS    IN    EUROPE. 

enough,  but  whose  quite  worldly  air  gave  the  idea  that  it  was 
one  of  those  arrangements  made  because  no  suitable  establish 
ment  could  otherwise  be  given  her,  —  came  forward,  knelt,  and 
prayed  ;  her  confessor,  in  that  strained,  unnatural  whine  too  com 
mon  among  preachers  of  all  churches  and  all  countries,  praised 
himself  for  having  induced  her  to  enter  on  a  path  which  would 
lead  her  fettered  steps  "from  palm  to  palm,  from  triumph  to 

r triumph."  Poor  thing  !  she  looked  as  if  the  domestic  olives  and 
poppies  were  all  she  wanted ;  and  lacking  these,  tares  and  worm 
wood  must  be  her  portion.  She  was  then  taken  behind  a  grating, 
her  hair  cut,  and  her  clothes  exchanged  for  the  nun's  vestments ; 
the  black-robed  sisters  who  worked  upon  her  looking  like  crows 
or  ravens  at  their  ominous  feasts.  All  the  while,  the  music  played, 
first  sweet  and  thoughtful,  then  triumphant  strains.  The  effect 
on  my  mind  was  revolting  and  painful  to  the  last  degree.  Were 
monastic  seclusion  always  voluntary,  and  could  it  be  ended  when 
ever  the  mind  required  a  change  back  from  seclusion  to  common 
life,  I  should  have  nothing  to  say  against  it ;  there  are  positions 
•  of  the  mind  which  it  suits  exactly,  and  even  characters  that  might 
choose  it  all  through  life ;  certainly,  to  the  broken-hearted  it  pre 
sents  a  shelter  that  Protestant  communities  do  not  provide.  But 
where  it  is  enforced  or  repented  of,  no  hell  could  be  worse ;  nor 
can  a  more  terrible  responsibility  be  incurred  than  by  him  who 
has  persuaded  a  novice  that  the  snares  of  the  world  are  less  dan 
gerous  than  the  demons  of  solitude. 

Festivities  in  Italy  have  been  of  great  importance,  since,  for  a 
century  or  two  back,  the  thought,  the  feeling,  the  genius  of  the 
people  have  had  more  chance  to  expand,  to  express  themselves, 
there  than  anywhere  else.  Now,  if  the  march  of  reform  goes 
forward,  this  will  not  be  so ;  there  will  be  also  speeches  made 
freely  on  public  occasions,  without  having  the  life  pressed  out  of 
them  by  the  censorship.  Now  we  hover  betwixt  the  old  and  the 
new  ;  when  the  many  reasons  for  the  new  prevail,  I  hope  what 
is  poetical  in  the  old  will  not  be  lost.  The  ceremonies  of  New 
Year  are  before  me  ;  but  as  I  shall  have  to  send  this  letter  on 
New-Year's  day,  I  cannot  describe  them. 


EXCITEMENT    AT    NAPLES.  273 

The  Romans  begin  now  to  talk  of  the  mad  gayeties  of  Carnival, 
and  the  Opera  is  open.  They  have  begun  with  "  Attila,"  as,  in 
deed,  there  is  little  hope  of  hearing  in  Italy  other  music  than. 
Verdi's.  Great  applause  waited  on  the  following  words  :  — 

"EZIO  (THE  ROMAN  LEADER). 

"  E  gittata  la  mia  sorte, 

Pronto  sono  ad  ogni  guerra, 
S'  io  cardo,  cadre  da  forte, 
E  il  mio  nome  resterk. 

"  Non  vedro  1'  amata  terra 

Svener  lenta  e  farri  a  brano, 
Sopra  1'  ultimo  Romano 
Tutta  Italia  piangerk." 

"  My  lot  is  fixed,  and  I  stand  ready  for  every  conflict.  If  I  must  fall,  I  shall 
fall  as  a  brave  man,  and  my  fame  will  survive.  I  shall  not  see  my  beloved 
country  fall  to  pieces  and  slowly  perish,  and  over  the  last  Roman  all  Italy 
will  weep." 

And  at  lines  of  which  the  following  is  a  translation :  — 

"  0  brave  man,  whose  mighty  power  can  raise  thy  country  from  such  dire 
distress;  from  the  immortal  hills,  radiant  with  glory,  let  the  shades  of  our 
ancestors  arise;  oh!  only  one  day,  one  instant,  arise  to  look  upon  us!  " 

It  was  an  Italian  who  sung  this  strain,  though,  singularly 
enough,  here  in  the  heart  of  Italy,  so  long  reputed  the  home  of 
music,  three  principal  parts  were  filled  by  persons  bearing  the 
foreign  names  of  IvanofF,  Mitrovich,  and  Nissren. 

Naples  continues  in  a  state  of  great  excitement,  which  now 
pervades  the  upper  classes,  as  several  young  men  of  noble  families 
have  been  arrested  ;  among  them,  one  young  man  much  beloved, 
son  of  Prince  Terella,  and  who,  it  is  said,  was  certainly  not  present 
on  the  occasion  for  which  he  was  arrested,  and  that  the  measure 
was  taken  because  he  was  known  to  sympathize  strongly  with  the 
liberal  movement.  The  nobility  very  generally  have  not  feared 
to  go  to  the  house  of  his  father  to  express  their  displeasure  at  the 
arrest  and  interest  in  the  young  man.  The  ministry,  it  is  said, 
are  now  persuaded  of  the  necessity  of  a  change  of  measures.  The 
king  alone  remains  inflexible  in  his  stupidity. 

The  stars  of  Bonaparte  and  Byron  show  again  a  conjunction, 


274  THINGS    AND    THOUGHTS    IN    EUROPE. 

by  the  almost  simultaneous  announcement  of  changes  in  the  lot 
of  women  with  whom  they  were  so  intimately  connected  ;  —  the 
Archduchess  of  Parma,  Maria  Louisa,  is  dead  ;  the  Countess 
Guiccioli  is  married.  The  Countess  I  have  seen  several  times  ; 
she  still  looks  young,  and  retains  the  charms  which  by  the  contem 
poraries  of  Byron  she  is  reputed  to  have  had  ;  they  never  were 
of  a  very  high  order  ;  her  best  expression  is  that  of  a  good  heart. 
I  always  supposed  that  Byron,  weary  and  sick  of  the  world  such 
ns  he  had  known  it,  became  attached  to  her  for  her  good  dispo 
sition,  and  sincere,  warm  tenderness  for  him  ;  the  sight  of  her, 
and  the  testimony  of  a  near  relative,  confirmed  this  impression. 
This  friend  of  hers  added,  that  she  had  tried  very  hard  to  remain 
devoted  to  the  memory  of  Byron,  but  was  quite  unequal  to  the 
part,  being  one  of  those  affectionate  natures  that  must  have  some 
one  near  with  whom  to  be  occupied ;  and  now,  it  seems,  she  has 
resigned  herself  publicly  to  abandon  her  romance.  However,  I 
fancy  the  manes  of  Byron  remain  undisturbed. 

We  all  know  the  worthless  character  of  Maria  Louisa,  the 
indifference  she  showed  to  a  husband  who,  if  he  was  not  her  own 
choice,  yet  would  have  been  endeared  to  almost  any  woman,  as 
one  fallen  from  an  immense  height  into  immense  misfortune,  and 
as  the  father  of  her  child.  No  voice  from  her  penetrated  to  cheer 
his  exile :  the  unhappiness  of  Josephine  was  well  avenged.  And 
that  child,  the  poor  Duke  of  Reichstadt,  of  a  character  so  interest 
ing,  and  with  obvious  elements  of  greatness,  withering  beneath  the 
mean,  cold  influence  of  his  grandfather,  —  what  did  Maria  Louisa 
do  for  him,  —  she,  appointed  by  Nature  to  be  his  inspiring  genius, 
his  protecting  angel  ?  I  felt  for  her  a  most  sad  and  profound  con 
tempt  last  summer,  as  I  passed  through  her  oppressed  dominion, 
a  little  sphere,  in  which,  if  she  could  not  save  it  from  the  usual 
effects  of  the  Austrian  rule,  she  might  have  done  so  much  private, 
womanly  good,  —  might  have  been  a  genial  heart  to  warm  it,  — • 
and  where  she  had  let  so  much  ill  be  done.  A  journal  announces 
her  death  in  these  words  :  "  The  Archduchess  is  dead ;  a  woman 
who  might  have  occupied  one  of  the  noblest  positions  in  the  history 
of  the  age  " ;  —  and  there  makes  expressive  pause. 


PARMA.  270 

Parma,  passing  from  bad  to  worse,  falls  into  the  hands  of  the 
Duke  of  Modena ;  and  the  people  and  magistracy  have  made  an 
address  to  their  new  ruler.  The  address  has  received  many 
thousand  signatures,  and  seems  quite  sincere,  except  in  the  as 
sumption  of  good-will  in  the  Duke  of  Modena ;  and  this  is  merely 
an  insincerity  of  etiquette. 


LETTER    XXI. 

The  Pope's  Eeception  of  the  New  Officers.  —  They  kiss  his  Foot.  —  Vespers  at 
the  Gesu. —  A  Poor  Youth  in  Rome  seeking  a  Patron.  —  Rumors  of  Disturb 
ances. —  Their  Cause. — Representations  to  the  Pope. — His  Conduct  in  the 
Affair.  —  An  Italian  Consul  for  the  United  States.  —  Catholicism.  —  The  Pop 
ularity  of  ths  Pope.  —  His  Deposition  of  a  Censor.  —  The  Policy  of  the  Pope 
in  his  Domestic  not  equal  to  that  of  his  Public  Life.  —  His  Opposition  to  Protes 
tant  Reform.  —  Letter  from  Joseph  Mazzini  to  the  Pontiff.  —  Reflections  on  it. 

Rome,  January  10,  1848. 

IN  the  first  morning  of  this  New  Year  I  sent  off  a  letter  which 
must  then  be  mailed  in  order  to  reach  the  steamer  of  the  16th. 
So  far  am  I  from  home,  that  even  steam  does  not  come  nigh  to 
annihilate  the  distance. 

This  afternoon  I  went  to  the  Quirinal  Palace  to  see  the  Pope 
receive  the  new  municipal  officers.  He  was  to-day  in  his  robes 
of  white  and  gold,  with  his  usual  corps  of  attendants  in  pure  red 
and  white,  or  violet  and  white.  The  new  officers  were  in  black 
velvet  dresses,  with  broad  white  collars.  They  took  the  oaths  of 
office,  and  then  actually  kissed  his  foot.  I  had  supposed  this  was 
never  really  done,  but  only  a  very  low  obeisance  made  ;  the  act 
seemed  to  me  disgustingly  abject,  j  A  Heavenly  Father  does  not 
want  his  children  at  his  feet,  but  in  his  arms,  on  a  level  with  his 
heart/ 

After  this  was  over  the  Pope  went  to  the  Gesu,  a  very  rich 
church  belonging  to  the  Jesuits,  to  officiate  at  Vespers,  and  we 
followed.  The  music  was  beautiful,  and  the  effect  of  the  church, 
with  its  richly-painted  dome  and  altar-piece  in  a  blaze  of  light, 
while  the  assembly  were  in  a  sort  of  brown  darkness,  was  very 
fine. 

A  number  of  Americans  there,  new  arrivals,  kept  requesting  'in 


A   POOR    YOUTH    IN    ROME.  277 

the  midst  of  the  music  to  know  when  it  would  begin.  "  Why, 
this  is  it"  some  one  at  last  had  the  patience  to  answer ;  " you  are 
hearing  Vespers  now."  "  What,"  they  replied,  "  is  there  no  ora 
tion,  no  speech ! "  So  deeply  rooted  in  the  American  mind  is  the 
idea  that  a  sermon  is  the  only  real  worship ! 

This  church  is  indelibly  stamped  on  my  mind.  Coming  to 
Rome  this  time,  I  saw  in  the  diligence  a  young  man,  whom  his 
uncle,  a  priest  of  the  convent  that  owns  this  church,  had  sent  for, 
intending  to  provide  him  employment  here.  Some  slight  circum 
stances  tested  the  character  of  this  young  man,  and  showed  it 
what  I  have  ever  found  it,  singularly  honorable  and  conscientious. 
He  was  led  to  show  me  his  papers,  among  which  was  a  letter 
from  a  youth  whom,  with  that  true  benevolence  only  possible  to 
the  poor,  because  only  they  can  make  great  sacrifices,  he  had  so 
benefited  as  to  make  an  entire  change  in  his  prospects  for  life. 
Himself  a  poor  orphan,  with  nothing  but  a  tolerable  education  at 
an  orphan  asylum,  and  a  friend  of  his  dead  parents  to  find  him 
employment  on  leaving  it,  he  had  felt  for  this  young  man,  poorer 
and  more  uninstructed  than  himself,  had  taught  him  at  his  leisure 
to  read  and  write,  had  then  collected  from  friends,  and  given  him 
self,  till  he  had  gathered  together  sixty  francs,  procuring  also 
for  his  protege  a  letter  from  monks,  who  were  friends  of  his,  to 
the  convents  on  the  road,  so  that  wherever  there  was  one,  the 
poor  youth  had  lodging  and  food  gratis.  Thus  armed,  he  set 
forth  on  foot  for  Rome  ;  Piacenza,  their  native  place,  affording 
little  hope  even  of  gaining  bread  in  the  present  distressed  state 
of  that  dominion.  The  letter  was  to  say  that  he  had  arrived,  and 
been  so  fortunate  as  to  find  employment  immediately  in  the  studio 
of  Benzoni,  the  sculptor. 

The  poor  patron's  eyes  sparkled  as  I  read  the  letter.     "  How  • 
happy  he  is ! "  said  he.     "  And  does  he  not  spell  and  write  well  ? 
I  was  his  only  master." 

But  the  good  do  not  inherit  the  earth,  and,  less  fortunate  than 

his  protege,  Germano  on  his   arrival  found  his   uncle  ill  of  the 

Roman  fever.     He  came  to  see  me,  much  agitated.     "  Can  it  be, 

Signorina,"  says  he,  "that  God,  who  has  taken  my  father  and 

24 


278  THINGS   AND    THOUGHTS    IN   EUROPE. 

mother,  will  also  take  from  me  the  only  protector  I  have  left,  and 
just  as  I  arrive  in  this  strange  place,  too?"  After  a  few  davs 
he  seemed  more  tranquil,  and  told  me  that,  though  he  had  felt 
as  if  it  would  console  him  and  divert  his  mind  to  go  to  some 
places  of  entertainment,  he  had  forborne  and  applied  the  money 
to  have  masses  said  for  his  uncle.  "  I  feel,"  he  said,  "  as  if  God 
would  help  me."  Alas  !  at  that  moment  the  uncle  was  dying. 
Poor  Germano  came  next  day  with  a  receipt  for  masses  said  for 
the  soul  of  the  departed,  (his  simple  faith  in  these  being  appar 
ently  indestructible,)  and  amid  his  tears  he  said :  "  The  Fathers 
were  so  unkind,  they  were  hardly  willing  to  hear  me  speak  a 
word  ;  they  were  so  afraid  I  should  be  a  burden  to  them,  I  shall 
never  go  there  again.  But  the  most  cruel  thing  was,  I  offered 
them  a  scudo  (dollar)  to  say  six  masses  for  the  soul  of  my  poor 
uncle ;  they  said  they  would  only  say  five,  and  must  have  seven 
baiocchi  (cents)  more  for  that." 

A  few  days  after,  I  happened  to  go  into  their  church,  and  found 
it  thronged,  while  a  preacher,  panting,  sweating,  leaning  half  out 
of  the  pulpit,  was  exhorting  his  hearers  to  "imitate  Christ." 
With  unspeakable  disgust  I  gazed  on  this  false  shepherd  of  those 
who  had  just  so  failed  in  their  duty  to  a  poor  stray  lamb, 
Their  church  is  so,  rich  in  ornaments,  the  seven  baiocchi  were 
hardly  needed  to  burnish  it.  Their  altar-piece  is  a  very  imposing 
composition,  by  an  artist  of  Rome,  still  in  the  prime  of  his  powers. 
Capalti.  It  represents  the  Circumcision,  with  the  cross  and  six 
waiting  angels  in  the  background  ;  Joseph,  who  holds  the  child, 
the  priest,  and  all  the  figures  in  the  foreground,  seem  intent  upon 
the  barbarous  rite,  except  Mary  the  mother ;  her  mind  seems  to 
rush  forward  into  the  future,  and  understand  the  destiny  of  her 
child ;  she  sees  the  cross,  —  she  sees  the  angels,  too. 

Now  I  have  mentioned  a  picture,  let  me  say  a  word  or  two 
about  Art  and  artists,  by  way  of  parenthesis  in  this  letter  so  much 
occupied  with  political  affairs.  We  laugh  a  little  here  at  some 
words  that  come  from  your  city  on  the  subject  of  Art. 

We  hear  that  the  landscapes  painted  here  show  a  want  of  famil 
iarity  with  Nature ;  artists  need  to  return  to  America  and  see  her 


THE    JESUITS.  279 

again.  But,  friends,  Nature  wears  a  different  face  in  Italy  from 
what  she  does  in  America.  Do  you  not  want  to  see  her  Italian 
face  ?  it  is  very  glorious  !  AVe  thought  it  was  the  aim  of  Art  to  re 
produce  all  forms  of  Nature,  and  that  you  would  not  be  sorry  to 
have  transcripts  of  what  you  have  not  always  round  you.  Ameri 
can  Art  is  not  necessarily  a  reproduction  of  American  Nature. 

Hicks  has  made  a  charming  picture  of  familiar  life,  which  those 
who  cannot  believe  in  Italian  daylight  would  not  tolerate.  I  am 
not  sure  that  all  eyes  are  made  in  the  same  manner,  for  I  have 
known  those  who  declare  they  see  nothing  remarkable  in  these 
skies,  these  hues  ;  and  always  complain  when  they  are  repro 
duced  in  picture.  I  have  yet  seen  no  picture  by  Cropsey  on  an 
Italian  subject,  but  his  sketches  from  Scotch  scenes  are  most 
poetical  and  just  presentations  of  those  lakes,  those  mountains, 
with  their  mourning  veils.  He  is  an  artist  of  great  promise. 
Cranch  has  made  a  picture  for  Mr.  Ogden  Haggerty  of  a  fine 
mountain-hold  of  old  Colonna  story.  I  wish  he  would  write  a 
ballad  about  it  too  ;  there  is  plenty  of  material. 

But  to  return  to  the  Jesuits.  One  swallow  does  not  make  a 
summer,  nor  am  I  —  who  have  seen  so  much  hard-heartedness  and 
barbarous  greed  of  gain  in  all  classes  of  men  —  so  foolish  as  to  at 
tach  undue  importance  to  the  demand,  by  those  who  have  dared  to 
appropriate  peculiarly  to  themselves  the  sacred  name  of  Jesus, 
from  a  poor  orphan,  and  for  the  soul  of  one  of  their  own  order,  of 
"  seven  baiocchi  more."  But  I  have  always  been  satisfied,  from 
the  very  nature  of  their  institutions,  that  the  current  prejudice 
against  them  must  be  correct.  These  institutions  are  calculated 
to  harden  the  heart,  and  destroy  entirely  that  truth  which  is  the 
conservative  principle  in  character.  Their  influence  is  and  must  I 
be  always  against  the  free  progress  of  humanity.  The  more  I 
see  of  its  working,  the  more  I  feel  how  pernicious  it  is,  and  were 
I  a  European,  to  no  object  should  I  lend  myself  with  more  ardor, ' 
than  to  the  extirpation  of  this  cancer.  True,  disband  the  Jesuits, 
there  would  still  remain  Jesuitical  men,  but  singly  they  would 
have  infinitely  less  power  to  work  mischief. 

The  influence  of  the  Oscurantist  foe  has  shown  itself  more  and 


280  THINGS    AND    THOUGHTS    IN   EUROPE. 

more  plainly  in  Rome,  during  the  last  four  or  five  weeks.  A  false 
miracle  is  devised  :  the  Madonna  del  Popolo,  (who  has  her  hand 
some  house  very  near  me,)  has  cured  a  paralytic  youth,  (who,  in 
fact,  was  never  diseased,)  and,  appearing  to  him  in  a  vision,  takes 
occasion  to  criticise  severely  the  measures  of  the  Pope.  Humors 
of  tumult  in  one  quarter  are  circulated,  to  excite  it  in  another. 
Inflammatory  handbills  are  put  up  in  the  night.  But  the  Romans 
thus  far  resist  all  intrigues  of  the  foe  to  excite  them  to  bad  con 
duct. 

On  New-Year's  day,  however,  success  was  near.  The  people; 
as  usual,  asked  permission  of  the  Governor  to  go  to  the  Quirinal 
and  receive  the  benediction  of  the  Pope.  This  was  denied,  and 
not,  as  it  might  truly  have  been,  because  the  Pope  was  unwell,  but 
in  the  most  ungracious,  irritating  manner  possible,  by  saying,  "  He 
is  tired  of  these  things  :  he  is  afraid  of  disturbance."  Then,  the 
people  being  naturally  excited  and  angry,  the  Governor  sent 
word  to  the  Pope  that  there  was  excitement,  without  letting  him 
know  why,  and  had  the  guards  doubled  on  the  posts.  The  most 
absurd  rumors  were  circulated  among  the  people  that  the  cannon 
of  St.  Angelo  were  to  be  pointed  on  them,  &c.  But  they,  with 
that  singular  discretion  which  they  show  now,  instead  of  rising,  as 
their  enemies  had  hoped,  went  to  ask  counsel  of  their  lately  ap 
pointed  Senator,  Corsini.  He  went  to  the  Pope,  found  him  ill, 
entirely  ignorant  of  what  was  going  on,  and  much  distressed  when 
he  heard  it.  He  declared  that  the  people  should  be  satisfied, 
and,  since  they  had  not  been  allowed  to  come  to  him,'*  he  would 
go  to  them.  Accordingly,  the  next  day,  though  rainy  and  of  a 
searching  cold  like  that  of  a  Scotch  mist,  we  had  all  our  win 
dows  thrown  open,  and  the  red  and  yellow  tapestries  hung  out. 
He  passed  through  the  principal  parts  of  the  city,  the  people 
throwing  themselves  on  their  knees  and  crying  out,  u  O  Holy 
Father,  don't  desert  us  !  don't  forget  us  !  don't  listen  to  our  ene 
mies!"  The  Pope  wept  often,  and  replied,  "Fear  nothing,  my 
people,  my  heart  is  yours."  At  last,  seeing  how  ill  he  was,  they 
begged  him  to  go  in,  and  he  returned  to  the  Quirinal ;  the  present 
Tribune  of  the  People,  as  far  as  rule  in  the  heart  is  concerned, 


CONSUL    FOR    THE    UNITED    STATES.  281 

Ciceronacchio,  following  his  carriage.  I  shall  give  some  account 
of  this  man  in  another  letter. 

For  the  moment,  the  difficulties  are  healed,  as  they  will  be 
whenever  the  Pope  directly  shows  himself  to  the  people.  Then 
his  generous,  affectionate  heart  will  always  act,  and  act  on  them, 
dissipating  the  clouds  which  others  have  been  toiling  to  darken. 

In  speaking  of  the  intrigues  of  these  emissaries  of  the  power  of 
darkness,  I  will  mention  that  there  is  a  report  here  that  they  are 
trying  to  get  an  Italian  Consul  for  the  United  States,  and  one  in 
the  employment  of  the  Jesuits.  This  rumor  seems  ridiculous ; 
yet  it  is  true  that  Dr.  Beecher's  panic  about  Catholic  influence 
in  the  United  States  is  not  quite  unfounded,  and  that  there  is  con 
siderable  hope  of  establishing  a  new  dominion  there.  I  hope  the 
United  States  will  appoint  no  Italian,  no  Catholic,  to  a  consulship. 
The  representative  of  the  United  States  should  be  American  ;  our 
national  character  and  interests  are  peculiar,  and  cannot  be  fitly 
represented  by  a  foreigner,  unless,  like  Mr.  Ombrossi  of  Florence, 
he  has  passed  part  of  his  youth  in  the  United  States.  It  would, 
indeed,  be  well  if  our  government  paid  attention  to  qualification 
for  the  office  in  the  candidate,  and  not  to  pretensions  founded  on 
partisan  service  ;  appointing  only  men  of  probity,  who  would  not 
stain  the  national  honor  in  the  sight  of  Europe.  It  would  be 
wise  also  not  to  select  men  entirely  ignorant  of  foreign  manners, 
customs,  ways  of  thinking,  or  even  of  any  language  in  which 
to  communicate  with  foreign  society,  making  the  country  ridic 
ulous  by  all  sorts  of  blunders  ;  but  't  were  pity  if  a  sufficient 
number  of  Americans  could  not  be  found,  who  are  honest,  have 
some  knowledge  of  Europe  and  gentlemanly  tact,  and  are  able 
at  least  to  speak  French. 

To  return  to  the  Pope,  although  the  shadow  that  has  fallen  on 
his  popularity  is  in  a  great  measure  the  work  of  his  enemies,  yet 
there  is  real  cause  for  it  too.  His  conduct  in  deposing  for  a  time 
one  of  the  Censors,  about  the  banners  of  the  loth  of  December, 
his  speech  to  the  Council  the  same  day,  his  extreme  displeasure  at 
the  sympathy  of  a  few  persons  with  the  triumph  of  the  Swiss  Diet, 
because  it  was  a  Protestant  triumph,  and,  above  all,  his  speech 
24* 


282  THINGS    AND    THOUGHTS    IN    EUROPE. 

to  the  Consistory,  so  deplorably  weak  in  thought  and  absolute  in 
manner,  show  a  man  less  strong  against  domestic  than  foreign 
foes,  instigated  by  a  generous,  humane  heart  to  advance,  but  fet 
tered  by  the  prejudices  of  education,  and  terribly  afraid  to  be  or 
seem  to  be  less  the  Pope  of  Rome,  in  becoming  a  reform  prince, 
and  father  to  the  fatherless.  I  insert  a  passage  of  this  speech, 
which  seems  to  say  that,  whenever  there  shall  be  collision  between 
the  priest  and  the  reformer,  the  priest  shall  triumph  :  — 

"  Another  subject  there  is  which  profoundly  afflicts  and  harasses 
our  mind.  It  is  not  certainly  unknown  to  you,  Venerable  Breth 
ren,  that  many  enemies  of  Catholic^  truth  have,  in  our  times 
especially,  directed  their  efforts  by  the  desire  to  place  certain 
monstrous  offsprings  of  opinion  on  a  par  with  the  doctrine  of 
Christ,  or  to  blend  them  therewith,  seeking  to  propagate  more 
and  more  that  impious  system  of  indifference  toward  all  religion 
whatever. 

"  And  lately  some  have  been  found,  dreadful  to  narrate  !  who 
have  offered  such  an  insult  to  our  name  and  Apostolic  dignity,  as 
slanderously  to  represent  us  participators  in  their  folly,  and  favor 
ers  of  that  most  iniquitous  system  above  named.  These  have  been 
pleased  to  infer  from  the  counsels  (certainly  not  foreign  to  the 
sanctity  of  the  Catholic  religion)  which,  in  certain  affairs  per 
taining  to  the  civil  exercise  of  the  Pontific  sway,  we  had  benignly 
embraced  for  the  increase  of  public  prosperity  and  good,  arid  also 
from  the  pardon  bestowed  in  clemency  upon  certain  persons  sub 
ject  to  that  sway,  in  the  very  beginning  of  our  Pontificate,  that 
we  had  such  benevolent  sentiments  toward  every  description  of 
persons  as  to  believe  that  not  only  the  sons  of  the  Church,  but 
others  also,  remaining  aliens  from  Catholic  unity,  are  alike  in  the 
way  of  salvation,  and  may  attain  eternal  life.  Words  are  wanting 
to  us,  from  horror,  to  repel  this  new  and  atrocious  calumny  against 
us.  It  is  true  that  with  intimate  affection  of  heart  we  love  all 
mankind,  but  not  otherwise  than  in  the  charity  of  God  and  of  our 
Lord  Jesus  Christ,  who  came  to  seek  and  to  save  that  which  had 
perished,  who  wisheth  that  all  men  should  be  saved  and  come  to 
a  knowledge  of  the  truth,  and  who  sent  his  disciples  through 


SPEECH    TO    THE    CONSISTORY.  283 

the  whole  world  to  preach  the  Gospel  to  every  creature,  declaring 
that  those  who  should  believe  and  be  baptized  should  be  saved,  but 
those  who  should  not  believe,  should  be  condemned.  Let  those 
therefore  who  seek  salvation  come  to  the  pillar  and  support  of  the 
Truth,  which  is  the  Church,  —  let  them  come,  that  is,  to  the  true 
Church  of  Christ,  which  possesses  in  its  bishops  and  the  supreme 
head  of  all,  the  Roman  Pontiff,  a  never-interrupted  succession  of 
Apostolic  authority,  and  which  for  nothing  has  ever  been  more 
zealous  than  to  preach,  and  with  all  care  preserve  and  defend,  the 
doctrine  announced  as  the  mandate  of  Christ  by  his  Apostles  ; 
which  Church  afterward  increased,  from  the  time  of  the  Apostles, 
in  the  midst  of  every  species  of  diih'culties,  and  flourished  through 
out  the  whole  world,  radiant  in  the  splendor  of  miracles,  amplified 
by  the  blood  of  martyrs,  ennobled  by  the  virtues  of  confessors 
and  virgins,  corroborated  by  the  testimony  and  most  sapient  writ 
ings  of  the  fathers,  —  as  it  still  flourishes  throughout  all  lands, 
refulgent  in  perfect  unity  of  the  sacraments,  of  faith,  and  of  holy 
discipline.  We  who,  though  unworthy,  preside  in  this  supreme 
chair  of  the  Apostle  Peter,  in  which  Christ  our  Lord  placed  the 
foundation  of  his  Church,  have  at  no  time  abstained  from  any 
cares  or  toils  to  bring,  through  the  grace  of  Christ  himself,  those 
who  are  in  ignorance  and  error  to  this  sole  way  of  truth  and  sal 
vation.  Let  those,  whoever  they  be,  that  are  adverse,  remem 
ber  that  heaven  and  earth  shall  pass  away,  but  nothing  can  ever 
perish  of  the  words  of  Christ,  nor  be  changed  in  the  doctrine  which 
the  Catholic  Church  received,  to  guard,  defend,  and  publish,  from 
him. 

"  Next  to  this  we  cannot  but  speak  to  you,  Venerable  Brethren, 
of  the  bitterness  of  sorrow  by  which  we  were  affected,  on  seeing 
that  a  few  days  since,  in  this  our  fair  city,  the  fortress  and  centre 
of  the  Catholic  religion,  it  proved  possible  to  find  some  —  very 
few  indeed  and  well-nigh  frantic  men  —  who,  laying  aside  the 
very  sense  of  humanity,  and  to  the  extreme  disgust  and  indigna 
tion  of  other  citizens  of  this  town,  were  not  withheld  by  horror 
from  triumphing  openly  and  publicly  over  the  most  lamentable 
intestine  war  lately  excited  among  the  Helvetic  people ;  which 


284  THINGS    AND    THOUGHTS    IN    EUROPE. 

truly  fatal  war  we  sorrow  over  from  the  depths  of  our  heart,  as 
well  considering  the  blood  shed  by  that  nation,  the  slaughter  of 
brothers,  the  atrocious,  daily  recurring,  and  fatal  discords,  hatreds, 
and  dissensions  (which  usually  redound  among  nations  in  conse 
quence  especially  of  civil  wars),  as  the  detriment  which  we  learn 
the  Catholic  religion  has  suffered,  and  fear  it  may  yet  suffer,  in 
consequence  of  this,  and,  finally,  the  deplorable  acts  of  sacrilege 
committed  in  the  first  conflict,  which  our  soul  shrinks  from  nar 
rating." 

It  is  probably  on  account  of  these  fears  of  Pius  IX.  lest  he 
should  be  a  called  a  Protestant  Pope,  that  the  Roman  journals 
thus  far,  in  translating  the  American  Address  to  the  Pope,  have 
not  dared  to  add  any  comment. 

But  if  the  heart,  the  instincts,  of  this  good  man  have  been  be 
yond  his  thinking  powers,  that  only  shows  him  the  providential 
agent  to  work  out  aims  beyond  his  ken.  A  wave  has  been  set 
in  motion,  which  cannot  stop  till  it  casts  up  its  freight  upon  the 
shore,  and  if  Pius  IX.  does  not  suffer  himself  to  be  surrounded 
by  dignitaries,  and  see  the  signs  of  the  times  through  the  eyes  of 
others,  —  if  he  does  not  suffer  the  knowledge  he  had  of  general 
society  as  a  simple  prelate  to  become  incrusted  by  the  ignorance 
habitual  to  princes,  —  he  cannot  fail  long  to  be  a  most  important 
agent  in  fashioning  a  new  and  better  era  for  this  beautiful  injured 
land. 

I  will  now  give  another  document,  which  may  be  considered 
as  representing  the  view  of  what  is  now  passing  taken  by  the 
democratic  party  called  "  Young  Italy."  Should  it  in  any  other 
way  have  reached  the  United  States,  yet  it  will  not  come  amiss  to 
have  it  translated  for  the  Tribune,  as  many  of  your  readers  may 
not  otherwise  have  a  chance  of  seeing  this  noble  document,  one  of 
the  milestones  in  the  march  of  thought.  It  is  a  letter  to  the 
Most  High  Pontiff,  Pius  IX.,  from  Joseph  Mazzini. 

"  London,  8th  September,  1847. 

"MosT  HOLY  FATHER,  —  Permit  an  Italian,  who  has  studied 
your  every  step  for  some  months  back  with  much  hopefulness,  to 


LETTER    OF    MAZZINI.  285 

address  to  you,  in  the  midst  of  the  applauses,  often  far  too  servile 
and  unworthy  of  you,  which  resound  near  you,  some  free  and 
profoundly  sincere  words.  Take  to  read  them  some  moments 
from  your  infinite  cares.  From  a  simple  individual  animated  by 
holy  intentions  may  come,  sometimes,  a  great  counsel ;  and  I 
write  to  you  with  so  much  love,  with  so  much  emotion  of  my 
whole  soul,  with  so  much  faith  in  the  destiny  of  my  country, 
which  may  be  revived  by  your  means,  that  my  thoughts  ought 
to  speak  truth. 

"  And  first,  it  is  needful,  Most  Holy  Father,  that  I  should  say 
to  you  somewhat  of  myself.  My  name  has  probably  reached 
your  ears,  but  accompanied  by  all  the  calumnies,  by  all  the 
errors,  by  all  the  foolish  conjectures,  which  the  police,  by  system, 
and  many  men  of  my  party  through  want  of  knowledge  or  poverty 
of  intellect,  have  heaped  upon  it.  I  am  not  a  subverter,  nor  a 
communist,  nor  a  man  of  blood,  nor  a  hater,  nor  intolerant,  nor 
exclusive  adorer  of  a  system,  or  of  a  form  imagined  by  my  mind. 
I  adore  God,  and  an  idea  which  seems  to  me  of  God,  —  Italy  an 
angel  of  moral  unity  and  of  progressive  civilization  for  the  nations 
of  Europe.  Here  and  everywhere  I  have  written  the  best  I 
know  how  against  the  vices  of  materialism,  of  egotism,  of  reac 
tion,  and  against  the  destructive  tendencies  which  contaminate 
many  of  our  party.  If  the  people  should  rise  in  violent  attack 
against  the  selfishness  and  bad  government  of  their  rulers,  I, 
while  rendering  homage  to  the  right  of  the  people,  shall  be 
among  the  first  to  prevent  the  excesses  and  the  vengeance 
which  long  slavery  has  prepared.  I  believe  profoundly  in  a 
religious  principle,  supreme  above  all  social  ordinances ;  in  a  di 
vine  order,  which  we  ought  to  seek  to  realize  here  on  earth ; 
in  a  law,  in  a  providential  design,  which  we  all  ought,  according  to 
our  powers,  to  study  and  to  promote.  I  believe  in  the  inspiration 
of  my  immortal  soul,  in  the  teaching  of  Humanity,  which  shouts 
to  me,  through  the  deeds  and  words  of  all  its  saints,  incessant  prog 
ress  for  all  through  the  work  of  all  my  brothers  toward  a  com 
mon  moral  amelioration,  toward  the  fulfilment  of  the  Divine  Law. 
And  in  the  great  history  of  Humanity  I  have  studied  the  his- 


286  THINGS   AND    THOUGHTS    IN   EUROPE. 

tory  of  Italy,  and  have  found  there  Rome  twice  directress  of  the 
world,  —  first  through  the  Emperors,  later  through  the  Popes. 
I  have  found  there,  that  every  manifestation  of  Italian  life  has 
also  been  a  manifestation  of  European  life  ;  and  that  always 
when  Italy  fell,  the  moral  unity  of  Europe  began  to  fall  apart  in 
analysis,  in  doubt,  in  anarchy.  I  believe  in  yet  another  manifesta 
tion  of  the  Italian  idea;  and  I  believe  that  another  European 
world  ought  to  be  revealed  from  the  Eternal  City,  that  had  the 
Capitol,  and  has  the  Vatican.  And  this  faith  has  not  abandoned 
me  ever,  through  years,  poverty,  and  griefs  which  God  alone 
knows.  In  these  few  words  lies  all  my  being,  all  the  secret  of 
my  life.  I  may  err  in  the  intellect,  but  the  heart  has  always 
remained  pure.  I  have  never  lied  through  fear  or  hope,  and  I 
speak  to  you  as  I  should  speak  to  God  beyond  the  sepulchre. 

"  I  believe  you  good.  There  is  no  man  this  day,  I  will  not  say 
in  Italy,  but  in  all  Europe,  more  powerful  than  you  ;  you  then 
have,  most  Holy  Father,  vast  duties.  God  measures  these  ac 
cording  to  the  means  which  he  has  granted  to  his  creatures. 

"  Europe  is  in  a  tremendous  crisis  of  doubts  and  desires. 
Through  the  work  of  time,  accelerated  by  your  predecessors  of 
the  hierarchy  of  the  Church,  faith  is  dead,  Catholicism  is  lost  in 
despotism  ;  Protestantism  is  lost  in  anarchy.  Look  around  you  ; 
you  will  find  superstitious  and  hypocrites,  but  not  believers.  The 
intellect  travels  in  a  void.  The  bad  adore  calculation,  physical 
good ;  the  good  pray  and  hope ;  nobody  believes.  Kings,  govern 
ments,  the  ruling  classes,  combat  for  a  power  usurped,  illegiti 
mate,  since  it  does  not  represent  the  worship  of  truth,  nor  disposi 
tion  to  sacrifice  one's  self  for  the  good  of  all ;  the  people  combat 
because  they  suffer,  because  they  would  fain  take  their  turn  to 
enjoy ;  nobody  fights  for  duty,  nobody  because  the  war  against 
evil  and  falsehood  is  a  holy  war,  the  crusade  of  God.  We  have 
no  more  a  heaven ;  hence  we  have  no  more  a  society. 

"  Do  not  deceive  yourself,  Most  Holy  Father ;  this  is  the  pres 
ent  state  of  Europe. 

"  But  humanity  cannot  exist  without  a  heaven.  The  idea  of 
society  is  only  a  consequence  of  the  idea  of  religion.  We  shall 


LETTER    OF   MAZZINI.  287 

have  then,  sooner  or  later,  religion  and  heaven.  We  shall  have 
these  not  in  the  kings  and  the  privileged  classes,  —  their  very 
condition  excludes  love,  the  soul  of  all  religions,  —  but  in  the 
people.  The  spirit  from  God  descends  on  many  gathered  to 
gether  in  his  name.  The  people  have  suffered  for  ages  on  the 
cross,  and  God  will  bless  them  with  a  faith. 

"  You  can,  Most  Holy  Father,  hasten  that  moment.  I  will  not 
tell  you  my  individual  opinions  on  the  religious  development 
which  is  to  come ;  these  are  of  little  importance.  But  I  will  say 
to  you,  that,  whatever  be  the  destiny  of  the  creeds  now  existing, 
you  can  put  yourself  at  the  head  of  this  development.  If  God 
wills  that  such  creeds  should  revive,  you  can  make  them  revive ; 
if  God  wills  that  they  should  be  transformed,  that,  leaving  the 
foot  of  the  cross,  dogma  and  worship  should  be  purified  by  rising 
a  step  nearer  God,  the  Father  and  Educator  of  the  world,  you 
can  put  yourself  between  the  two  epochs,  and  guide  the  world 
to  the  conquest  and  the  practice  of  religious  truth,  extirpating 
a  hateful  egotism,  a  barren  negation. 

"  God  preserve  me  from  tempting  you  with  ambition ;  that 
would  be  profanation.  I  call  you,  in  the  name  of  the  power 
which  God  has  granted  you,  and  has  not  granted  without  a  reason, 
to  fulfil  the  good,  the  regenerating  European  work.  I  call  you, 
after  so  many  ages  of  doubt  and  corruption,  to  be  apostle  of  Eter 
nal  Truth.  I  call  you  to  make  yourself  the  'servant  of  all,' 
to  sacrifice  yourself,  if  needful,  so  that  ( the  will  of  God  may  be 
done  on  the  earth  as  it  is  in  heaven  ' ;  to  hold  yourself  ready 
to  glorify  God  in  victory,  or  to  repeat  with  resignation,  if  you 
must  fail,  the  words  of  Gregory  VII. :  *  I  die  in  exile,  because  I 
have  loved  justice  and  hated  iniquity.' 

"  But  for  this,  to  fulfil  the  mission  which  God  confides  to  you, 
two  things  are  needful,  —  to  be  a  believer,  and  to  unify  Italy. 
Without  the  first,  you  will  fall  in  the  middle  of  the  way,  aban 
doned  by  God  and  by  men ;  without  the  second,  you  will  not 
have  the  lever  with  which  only  you  can  effect  great,  holy,  and 
durable  things. 

"  Be  a  believer ;  abhor  to  be  king,  politician,  statesman.     Make 


288  THINGS   AND    THOUGHTS    IN    EUROPE. 

no  compromise  with  error ;  do  not  contaminate  yourself  with  di 
plomacy,  make  no  compact  with  fear,  with  expediency,  with  the 
false  doctrines  of  a  legality,  which  is  merely  a  falsehood  invented 
when  faith  failed.  Take  no  counsel  except  from  God,  from  the 
inspirations  of  your  own  heart,  and  from  the  imperious  necessity 
of  rebuilding  a  temple  to  truth,  to  justice,  to  faith.  Self-col 
lected,  in  enthusiasm  of  love  for  humanity,  and  apart  from  every 
human  regard,  ask  of  God  that  he  will  teach  you  the  way ;  then 
enter  upon  it,  with  the  faith  of  a  conqueror  on  your  brow,  with 
the  irrevocable  decision  of  the  martyr  in  your  heart ;  look  neither 
to  the  right  hand  nor  the  left,  but  straight  before  you,  and  up  to 
heaven.  Of  every  object  that  meets  you  on  the  way,  ask  of  your 
self:  'Is  this  just  or  unjust,  true  or  false,  law  of  man  or  law 
of  God  ? '  Proclaim  aloud  the  result  of  your  examination,  and 
act  accordingly.  Do  not  say  to  yourself:  'If  I  speak  and  work 
in  such  a  way,  the  princes  of  the  earth  will  disagree  ;  the  am 
bassadors  will  present  notes  and  protests ! '  What  are  the  quar 
rels  of  selfishness  in  princes,  or  their  notes,  before  a  syllable  of 
the  eternal  Evangelists  of  God  ?  They  have  had  importance  till 
now,  because,  though  phantoms,  they  had  nothing  to  oppose  them 
but  phantoms  ;  oppose  to  them  the  reality  of  a  man  who  sees 
the  Divine  view,  unknown  to  them,  of  human  affairs,  of  an  immor 
tal  soul  conscious  of  a  high  mission,  and  these  will  vanish  before 
you  as  vapors  accumulated  in  darkness  before  the  sun  which  rises 
in  the  east.  Do  not  let  yourself  be  affrighted  by  intrigues  ;  the 
creature  who  fulfils  a  duty  belongs  not  to  men,  but  to  God. 
God  will  protect  you  ;  God  will  spread  around  you  such  a  halo 
of  love,  that  neither  the  perfidy  of  men  irreparably  lost,  nor  the 
suggestions  of  hell,  can  break  through  it.  Give  to  the  world  a 
spectacle  new,  unique :  you  will  have  results  new,  not  to  be  fore 
seen  by  human  calculation.  Announce  an  era ;  declare  that 
Humanity  is  sacred,  and  a  daughter  of  God  ;  that  all  who  violate 
her  rights  to  progress,  to  association,  are  on  the  way  of  error ;  that 
in  God  is  the  source  of  every  government ;  that  those  who  are 
best  by  intellect  and  heart,  by  genius  and  virtue,  must  be  the 
guides  of  the  people.  Bless  those  who  suffer  and  combat ;  blame. 


LETTER    OF    MAZZINI.  289 

reprove,  those  who  cause  suffering,  without  regard  to  the  name 
they  bear,  the  rank  that  invests  them.  The  people  will  adore  in 
you  the  best  interpreter  of  the  Divine  design,  and  your  conscience 
will  give  you  rest,  strength,  and  ineffable  comfort. 

"  Unify  Italy,  your  country.  For  this  you  have  no  need  to 
work,  but  to  bless  Him  who  works  through  you  and  in  your  name. 
Gather  round  you  those  who  best  represent  the  national  party. 
Do  not  beg  alliances  with  princes.  Continue  to  seek  the  alli 
ance  of  our  own  people  ;  say,  '  The  unity  of  Italy  ought  to  be  a 
fact  of  the  nineteenth  century,'  and  it  will  suffice;  we  shall  work 
for  you.  Leave  our  pens  free  ;  leave  free  the  circulation  of  ideas 
in  what  regards  this  point,  vital  for  us,  of  the  national  unity. 
Treat  the  Austrian  government,  even  when  it  no  longer  menaces 
your  territory,  with  the  reserve  of  one  who  knows  that  it  governs 
by  usurpation  in  Italy  and  elsewhere  ;  combat  it  with  words  of  a 
just  man,  wherever  it  contrives  oppressions  and  violations  of  the 
rights  of  others  out  of  Italy.  Require,  in  the  name  of  the  God  of 
Peace,  the  Jesuits  allied  with  Austria  in  Switzerland  to  withdraw 
from  that  country,  where  their  presence  prepares  an  inevitable 
and  speedy  effusion  of  the  blood  of  the  citizens.  Give  a  word  of 
sympathy  which  shall  become  public  to  the  first  Pole  of  Galicia 
who  comes  into  your  presence.  Show  us,  in  fine,  by  some  fact, 
that  you  intend  not  only  to  improve  the  physical  condition  of  your 
own  few  subjects,  but  that  you  embrace  in  your  love  the  twenty- 
four  millions  of  Italians,  your  brothers  ;  that  you  believe  them 
called  by  God  to  unite  in  family  unity  under  one  and  the  same 
compact ;  that  you  would  bless  the  national  banner,  wherever  it 
should  be  raised  by  pure  and  incontaminate  hands ;  and  leave  the 
rest  to  us.  We  will  cause  to  rise  around  you  a  nation  over  whose 
free  and  popular  development  you,  living,  shall  preside.  We  will 
found  a  government  unique  in  Europe,  which  shall  destroy  the 
absurd  divorce  between  spiritual  and  temporal  power,  and  in 
which  you  shall  be  chosen  to  represent  the  principle  of  which  the 
men  chosen  by  the  nation  will  make  the  application.  We  shall 
know  how  to  translate  into  a  potent  fact  the  instinct  which  palpi 
tates  through  all  Italy.  We  will  excite  for  you  active  support 
25 


290  THINGS    AND    THOUGHTS    IN    EUROPE. 

among  the  nations  of  Europe  ;  we  will  find  you  friends  even  in  the 
ranks  of  Austria ;  we  alone,  because  we  alone  have  unity  of  design, 
believe  in  the  truth  of  our  principle,  and  have  never  betrayed  it. 
Do  not  fear  excesses  from  the  people  once  entered  upon  this  way ; 
the  people  only  commit  excesses  when  left  to  their  own  impulses 
without  any  guide  whom  they  respect.  Do  not  pause  before  the 
idea  of  becoming  a  cause  of  war.  War  exists,  everywhere, 
open  or  latent,  but  near  breaking  out,  inevitable ;  nor  can  human 
power  prevent  it.  Nor  do  I,  it  must  be  said  frankly,  Most  Holy 
Father,  address  to  you  these  words  because  I  doubt  in  the  least 
of  our  destiny,  or  because  I  believe  you  the  sole,  the  indispensable 
means  of  the  enterprise.  The  unity  of  Italy  is  a  work  of  God,  — 
a  part  of  the  design  of  Providence  and  of  all,  even  of  those  who 
show  themselves  most  satisfied  with  local  improvements,  and  who, 
less  sincere  than  I,  wish  to  make  them  means  of  attaining  their 
own  aims.  It  will  be  fulfilled,  with  you  or  without  you.  But 
I  address  you,  because  I  believe  you  worthy  to  take  the  ini 
tiative  in  a  work  so  vast ;  because  your  putting  yourself  at 
the  head  of  it  would  much  abridge  the  road  and  diminish  the 
dangers,  the  injury,  the  blood  ;  because  with  you  the  conflict 
would  assume  a  religious  aspect,  and  be  freed  from  many  dangers 
of  reaction  and  civil  errors  ;  because  might  be  attained  at  once 
under  your  banner  a  political  result  and  a  vast  moral  result ;  be 
cause  the  revival  of  Italy  under  the  aegis  of  a  religious  idea,  of  a 
standard,  not  of  rights,  but  of  duties,  would  leave  behind  all  the 
revolutions  of  other  countries,  and  place  her  immediately  at  the 
head  of  European  progress  ;  because  it  is  in  your  power  to  cause 
that  God  and  the  people,  terras  too  often  fatally  disjoined,  should 
meet  at  once  in  beautiful  and  holy  harmony,  to  direct  the  fate  of 
nations. 

"  If  I  could  be  near  you,  I  would  invoke  from  God  power  to 
convince  you,  by  gesture,  by  accent,  by  tears  ;  now  I  can  only 
confide  to  the  paper  the  cold  corpse,  as  it  were,  of  my  thought ; 
nor  can  I  ever  have  the  certainty  that  you  have  read  and  medi 
tated  a  moment  what  I  write.  But  I  feel  an  imperious  necessity 
of  fulfilling  this  duty  toward  Italy  and  you,  and,  whatsoever  you 


AMERICAN    ADDRESS    TO    THE    POPE.  291 

may  think  of  it,  I  shall  find  myself  more  in  peace  with  my  con 
science  for  having  thus  addressed  you. 

"  Believe,  Most  Holy  Father,  in  the  feelings  of  veneration  and 
of  high  hope  which  professes  for  you  your  most  devoted 

"JOSEPH  MAZZINI." 

Whatever  may  be  the  impression  of  the  reader  as  to  the  ideas 
and  propositions  contained  in  this  document,*  I  think  he  cannot 
fail  to  be  struck  with  its  simple  nobleness,  its  fervent  truth. 

A  thousand  petty  interruptions  have  prevented  my  completing 
this  letter,  till,  now  the  hour  of  closing  the  mail  for  the  steamer  is 
so  near,  I  shall  not  have  time  to  look  over  it,  either  to  see  what  I 
have  written  or  make  slight  corrections.  However,  I  suppose  it 
represents  the  feelings  of  the  last  few  days,  and  shows  that,  with 
out  having  lost  any  of  my  confidence  in  the  Italian  movement,  the 
office  of  the  Pope  in  promoting  it  has  shown  narrower  limits,  and 
sooner  than  I  had  expected. 

This  does  not  at  all  weaken  my  personal  feeling  toward  this 
excellent  man,  whose  heart  I  have  seen  in  his  face,  and  can  never 
doubt.  It  was  necessary  to  be  a  great  thinker,  a  great  genius,  to 
compete  with  the  difficulties  of  his  position.  I  never  supposed  he 
was  that ;  I  am  only  disappointed  that  his  good  heart  has  not  car 
ried  him  on  a  little  farther.  With  regard  to  the  reception  of  the 
American  address,  it  is  only  the  Roman  press  that  is  so  timid ; 
the  private  expressions  of  pleasure  have  been  very  warm  ;  the 
Italians  say,  "  The  Americans  are  indeed  our  brothers."  It  re 
mains  to  be  seen,  when  Pius  IX.  receives  it,  whether  the  man, 
the  reforming  prince,  or  the  Pope  is  uppermost  at  that  moment. 

*  This  letter  was  printed  in  Paris  to  be  circulated  in  Italy.  A  prefatory  note, 
signed  by  a  friend  of  Mazzini's,  states  that  the  original  was  known  to  have  reached 
the  hands  of  the  Pope.  The  hope  is  expressed  that  the  publication  of  this  letter, 
though  without  the  authority  of  its  writer,  will  yet  not  displease  him,  as  those 
who  are  deceived  as  to  his  plans  and  motives  will  thus  learn  his  true  purposes 
and  feelings,  and  the  letter  will  one  day  aid  the  historian  who  seeks  to  know  what 
were  the  opinions  and  hopes  of  the  entire  people  of  Italy.  —  Eu. 


LETTER    XXII. 

The  Ceremonies  succeeding  Epiphany.  —  The  Death  of  Torlonia,  and  its  pre 
disposing  Causes.  —  Funeral  Honors.  —  A  striking  Contrast  in  the  Decease  of 
the  Cardinal  Prince  Massimo.  —  The  Pope  and  his  Officers  of  State.  —  The 
Cardinal  Bofondi.  —  Sympathetic  Excitements  through  Italy.  —  Sicily  in  full 
Insurrection.  —  The  King  of  Sicily,  Prince  Metternich,  and  Louis  Philippe.  — 
A  Rumor  as  to  the  Parentage  of  the  King  of  the  French.  —  Rome:  Ave  Maria. 
—  Life  in  the  Eternal  City.  —  The  Bambino.  —  Catholicism:  its  Gifts  and  its 
Workings.  —  The  Church  of  Ara  Cadi.  —  Exhibition  of  the  Bambino.  —  Bygone 
Superstition  and  Living  Reality.  —  The  Soul  of  Catholicism  has  fled.  —  Reflec 
tions. —  Exhibition  by  the  College  of  the  Propaganda.  —  Exercises  in  oil 
Languages.  —  Disturbances  and  their  Causes.  —  Thoughts.  —  Blessing  Ani 
mals. —  Accounts  from  Pavia.  —  Austria.  —  The  King  of  Naples.  —  Rumors 
from  other  Parts  of  Europe.  —  France.  —  Guizot.  —  Appearances  and  Appre 
hensions. 

Rome,  January,  1848. 

I  THINK  I  closed  my  last  letter,  without  having  had  time  to 
speak  of  the  ceremonies  that  precede  and  follow  Epiphany. 
This  month,  no  day,  scarcely  an  hour,  has  passed  unmarked  by 
some  showy  spectacle  or  some  exciting  piece  of  news. 

On  the  last  day  of  the  year  died  Don  Carlo  Torlonia,  brother 
of  the  banker,  a  man  greatly  beloved  and  regretted.  The  public 
felt  this  event  the  more  that  its  proximate  cause  was  an  attack 
made  upon  his  brother's  house  by  Paradisi,  now  imprisoned  in 
the  Castle  of  St.  Angelo,  pending  a  law  process  for  proof  of  his 
accusations.  Don  Carlo  had  been  ill  before,  and  the  painful  agi 
tation  caused  by  these  circumstances  decided  his  fate.  The  public 
had  been  by  no  means  displeased  at  this  inquiry  into  the  conduct 
of  Don  Alessandro  Torlonia,  believing  that  his  assumed  munifi 
cence  is,  in  this  case,  literally  a  robbery  of  Peter  to  pay  Paul, 
and  that  all  he  gives  to  Rome  is  taken  from  Rome.  But  it 


FUNERAL  OF  DON  CARLO  TORLONIA.         293 

sympathized  no  less  with  the  affectionate  indignation  of  his 
brother,  too  good  a  man  to  be  made  the  confidant  of  wrong,  or 
have  eyes  for  it,  if  such  exist. 

Thus,  in  the  poetical  justice  which  does  not  fail  to  be  done  in 
the  prose  narrative  of  life,  while  men  hastened,  the  moment  a  cry 
was  raised  against  Don  Alessandro,  to  echo  it  back  with  all  kinds 
of  imputations  both  on  himself  and  his  employees,  every  man 
held  his  breath,  and  many  wept,  when  the  mortal  remains  of  Don 
Carlo  passed  ;  feeling  that  in  him  was  lost  a  benefactor,  a  brother, 
a  simple,  just  man. 

Don  Carlo  was  a  Knight  of  Malta ;  yet  with  him  the  celibate 
life  had  not  hardened  the  heart,  but  only  left  it  free  on  all  sides 
to  general  love.  Not  less  than  half  a  dozen  pompous  funerals 
were  given  in  his  honor,  by  his  relatives,  the  brotherhoods  to 
which  he  belonged,  and  the  battalion  of  the  Civic  Guard  of  which 
he  was  commander-in-chief.  Bnt  in  his  own  house  the  body  lay 
in  no  other  state  than  that  of  a  simple  Franciscan,  the  order  to 
which  he  first  belonged,  and  whose  vow  he  had  kept  through  half 
a  century,  by  giving  all  he  had  for  the  good  of  others.  He  lay 
on  the  ground  in  the  plain  dark  robe  and  cowl,  no  unfit  subject 
for  a  modern  picture  of  little  angels  descending  to  shower  lilies 
on  a  good  man's  corpse.  The  long  files  of  armed  men,  the  rich 
coaches,  and  liveried  retinues  of  the  princes,  were  little  observed, 
in  comparison  with  more  than  a  hundred  orphan  girls  whom  his 
liberality  had  sustained,  and  who  followed  the  bier  in  mourning 
robes  and  long  white  veils,  spirit-like,  in  the  dark  night.  The 
trumpet's  wail,  and  soft,  melancholy  music  from  the  bands,  broke 
at  times  the  roll  of  the  muffled  drum  ;  the  hymns  of  the 
Church  were  chanted,  and  volleys  of  musketry  discharged,  in 
honor  of  the  departed ;  but  much  more  musical  was  the  whisper 
in  which  the  crowd,  as  passed  his  mortal  frame,  told  anecdotes  of 
his  good  deeds. 

I  do  not  know  when  I  have  passed  more  consolatory  moments 
than  in  the  streets  one  evening  during  this  pomp  and  pictur 
esque  show,  —  for  once  not  empty  of  all  meaning  as  to  the 
present  time,  recognizing  that  good  which  remains  in  the  human 
25* 


294  THINGS    AND    THOUGHTS    IN    EUROPE. 

being,  ineradicable  by  all  ill,  and  promises  that  our  poor,  injured 
nature  shall  rise,  and  bloom  again,  from  present  corruption  to 
immortal  purity.  If  Don  Carlo  had  been  a  thinker,  —  a  man 
of  strong  intellect,  —  he  might  have  devised  means  of  using 
his  money  to  more  radical  advantage  than  simply  to  give  it  in 
alms  ;  he  had  only  a  kind  human  heart,  but  from  that  heart 
distilled  a  balm  which  made  all  men  bless  it,  happy  in  finding 
cause  to  bless. 

As  in  the  moral  little  books  with  which  our  nurseries  are 
entertained,  followed  another  death  in  violent  contrast.  One  of 
those  whom  the  new  arrangements  deprived  of  power  and  the 
means  of  unjust  gain  was  the  Cardinal  Prince  Massimo,  a  man  a 
little  younger  than  Don  Carlo,  but  who  had  passed  his  forty 
years  in  a  very  different  manner.  He  remonstrated  ;  the  Pope 
was  firm,  and,  at  last,  is  said  to  have  answered  with  sharp  reproof 
for  the  past.  The  Cardinal  contained  himself  in  the  audience, 
but,  going  out,  literally  suffocated  with  the  rage  he  had  suppressed. 
The  bad  blood  his  bad  heart  had  been  so  long  making  rushed  to 
his  head,  and  he  died  on  his  return  home.  Men  laughed,  and 
proposed  that  all  the  widows  he  had  deprived  of  a  maintenance 
should  combine  to  follow  his  bier.  It  was  said  boys  hissed  as 
that  bier  passed.  Now,  a  splendid  suit  of  lace  being  for  sale  in 
a  shop  of  the  Corso,  everybody  says :  "  Have  you  been  to  look  at 
the  lace  of  Cardinal  Massimo,  who  died  of  rage,  because  he  could 
no  longer  devour  the  public  goods?"  And  this  is  the  last  echo 
of  his  requiem. 

The  Pope  is  anxious  to  have  at  least^  well-intentioned  men 
in  places  of-  power.  Men  of  much  ability,  it  would  seem,  are  not 
to  be  had.  His  last  prime  minister  was  a  man  said  to  have 
energy,  good  dispositions,  but  no  thinking  power.  The  Cardinal 
Bofondi,  whom  he  has  taken  now,  is  said  to  be  a  man  of  scarce 
any  ability ;  there  being  few  among  the  new  Councillors  the 
public  can  name  as  fitted  for  important  trust.  In  consolation,  we 
must  remember  that  the  Chancellor  Oxenstiern  found  nothing 
more  worthy  of  remark  to  show  his  son,  than  by  how  little  wis 
dom  the  world  could  be  governed.  We  must  hope  these  men 


EXCITEMENTS    THROUGHOUT    ITALY.  295 

of  straw  will  serve  as  thatch  to  keep  out  the  rain,  and  not  be 
exposed  to  the  assaults  of  a  devouring  flame. 

Yet  that  hour  may  not  be  distant.  The  disturbances  of  the 
1st  of  January  here  were  answered  by  similar  excitements  in 
Leghorn  and  Genoa,  produced  by  the  same  hidden  and- malig 
nant  foe.  At  the  same  time,  the  Austrian  government  in  Milan 
organized  an  attempt  to  rouse  the  people  to  revolt,  with  a  view 
to  arrests,  and  other  measures  calculated  to  stifle  the  spirit  of  in 
dependence  they  know  to  be  latent  there.  In  this  iniquitous 
attempt  they  murdered  eighty  persons  ;  yet  the  citizens,  on  their 
guard,  refused  them  the  desired  means  of  ruin,  and  they  were 
forced  to  retractions  as  impudently  vile  as  their  attempts  had 
been.  The  Viceroy  proclaimed  that  "  he  hoped  the  people 
would  confide  in  him  as  he  did  in  them  "  ;  and  no  doubt  they 
will.  At  Leghorn  and  Genoa,  the  wiles  of  the  foe  were  baffled 
by  the  wisdom  of  the  popular  leaders,  as  I  trust  they  always  will 
be ;  but  it  is  needful  daily  to  expect  these  nets  laid  in  the  path 
of  the  unwary. 

Sicily  is  in  full  insurrection  ;  and  it  is  reported  Naples,  but 
this  is  not  sure.  There  was  a  report,  day  before  yesterday,  that 
the  poor,  stupid  king  was  already  here,  and  had  taken  cheap 
chambers  at  the  Hotel  d'Allemagne,  as,  indeed,  it  is  said  he  has 
always  a  turn  for  economy,  when  he  cannot  live  at  the  expense 
of  his  suffering  people.  Day  before  yesterday,  every  carriage 
that  the  people  saw  with  a  stupid-looking  man  in  it  they  did  not 
know,  they  looked  to  see  if  it  was  not  the  royal  runaway.  But 
it  was  their  wish  was  father  to  that  thought,  and  it  has  not  as  yet 
taken  body  as  fact.  In  like  manner  they  report  this  week  the 
death  of  Prince  Metternich ;  but  I  believe  it  is  not  sure  he  is 
dead  yet,  only  dying.  With  him  passes  one  great  embodiment 
of  ill  to  Europe.  As  for  Louis  Philippe,  he  seems  reserved  to 
give  the  world  daily  more  signal  proofs  of  his  base  apostasy  to 
the  cause  that  placed  him  on  the  throne,  and  that  heartless  self 
ishness,  of  which  his  face  alone  bears  witness  to  any  one  that  has 
a  mind  to  read  it.  How  the  French  nation  could  look  upon  that 
face,  while  yet  flushed  with  the  hopes  of  the  Three  Days,  and  put 


296  THINGS    AND    THOUGHTS    IN    EUROPE. 

him  on  the  throne  as  representative  of  those  hopes,  I  cannot  con 
ceive.  There  is  a  story  current  in  Italy,  that  he  is  really  the  child 
of  a  man  first  a  barber,  afterwards  a  police-officer,  and  was  sub 
stituted  at  nurse  for  the  true  heir  of  Orleans  ;  and  the  vulgarity 
of  form  inJiis  body  of  limbs,  power  of  endurance,  greed  of  gain, 
and  hard,  cunning  intellect,  so  unlike  all  traits  of  the  weak, 
but  more  "  genteel "  Bourbon  race,  might  well  lend  plausibility 
to  such  a  fable. 

But  to  return  to  Rome,  where  I  hear  the  Ave  Maria  just 
ringing.  By  the  way,  nobody  pauses,  nobody  thinks,  nobody 
prays. 

"  Ave  Maria !  't  is  the  hour  of  prayer, 
Ave  Maria!  'tis  the  hour  of  love,"  &c., 

is  but  a  figment  of  the  poet's  fancy. 

To  return  to  Rome :  what  a  Rome !  the  fortieth  day  of  rain, 
and  damp,  and  abominable  reeking  odors,  such  as  blessed  cities 
swept  by  the  sea-breeze  —  bitter  sometimes,  yet  indeed  a  friend 

—  never  know.     It  has  been  dark  all  day,  though  the  lamp  has 
only  been  lit  half  an  hour.     The  music  of  the  day  has  been,  first 
the  atrocious  arias,  which  last  in  the  Corso  till  near  noon,  though 
certainly  less  in  virulence  on  rainy  days.    Then  came  the  wicked 
organ-grinder,  who,  apart  from  the  horror  of  the  noise,  grinds  ex 
actly  the  same  obsolete  abominations  as  at  home  or  in  England, 

—  the  Copenhagen  Waltz,  "  Home,  sweet  home,"  and  all  that! 
The  cruel  chance  that  both  an  English  my-lady  and  a  Councillor 
from  one  of  the  provinces   live    opposite,  keeps  him  constantly 
before  my  window,  hoping  baiocchi.     Within,  the  three  pet  dogs 
of  my  landlady,  bereft  of  their  walk,   unable   to  employ   their 
miserable    legs    and    eyes,   exercise    themselves   by    a  continual 
barking,  which  is  answered   by  all    the  dogs    in  the  neighbor 
hood.     An  urchin  returning  from  the  laundress,  delighted  with 
the  symphony,  lays  down  his  white  bundle  in  the  gutter,  seats 
himself  on    the    curb-stone,  and    attempts    an    imitation   of  the 
music  of  cats  as  a  tribute  to  the  concert.     The  door-bell  rings. 
Chi  &  ?  "  Who  is  it  ?  "  cries  the  handmaid,  with  unweariable  sense- 


THE    BAMBINO.  297 

lessness,  as  if  any  one  would  answer,  Rogue,  or  Enemy,  instead  of 
the  traditionary  Amico,  Friend.  Can  it  be,  perchance,  a  letter, 
news  of  home,  or  some  of  the  many  friends  who  have  neglected  so 
long  to  write,  or  some  ray  of  hope  to  break  the  clouds  of  the 
difficult  Future  ?  Far  from  it.  Enter  a  man  poisoning  me  at 
once  with  the  smell  of  the  worst  possible  cigars,  not  to  be  driven 
out,  insisting  I  shall  look  upon  frightful,  ill-cut  cameos,' and  worse- 
designed  mosaics,  made  by  some  friend  of  his,  who  works  in  a 
chamber  and  will  sell  so  cheap.  Man  of  ill-odors  arid  meanest 
smile  !  I  am  no  Countess  to  be  fooled  by  you.  For  dogs  they 
were  not  even  —  dog-cheap. 

A  faint  and  misty  gleam  of  sun  greeted  the  day  on  which  there 
was  the  feast  to  the  Bambino,  the  most  venerated  doll  of  Rome. 
This  is  the  famous  image  of  the  infant  Jesus,  reputed  to  be  made 
of  wood  from  a  tree  of  Palestine,  and  which,  being  taken  away 
from  its  present  abode,  —  the  church  of  Ara  Coeli,  —  returned 
by  itself,  making  the  bells  ring  as  it  sought  admittance  at  the 
door.  It  is  this  which  is  carried  in  extreme  cases  to  the  bedside 
of  the  sick.  It  has  received  more  splendid  gifts  than  any  other 
idol.  An  orphan  by  my  side,  now  struggling  with  difficulties, 
showed  me  on  its  breast  a  splendid  jewel,  which  a  doting  grand 
mother  thought  more  likely  to  benefit  her  soul  if  given  to  the 
Bambino,  than  if  turned  into  money  to  give  her  grandchildren 
education  and  prospects  in  life.  The  same  old  lady  left  her  vine 
yard,  not  to  these  children,  but  to  her  confessor,  a  well-endowed 
Monsignor,  who  occasionally  asks  this  youth,  his  godson,  to  din 
ner  !  Children  so  placed  are  not  quite  such  devotees  to  Cathol 
icism  as  the  new  proselytes  of  America ;  —  they  are  not  so 
much  patted  on  the  head,  and  things  do  not  show  to  them  under 
quite  the  same  silver  veil. 

The  church  of  Ara  Coeli  is  on  or  near  the  site  of  the  temple 
of  Capitoline  Jove,  which  certainly  saw  nothing  more  idolatrous 
than  these  ceremonies.  For  about  a  week  the  Bambino  is  ex 
hibited  in  an  illuminated  chapel,  in  the  arms  of  a  splendidly 
dressed  Madonna  doll.  Behind,  a  transparency  represents  the 
shepherds,  by  moonlight,  at  the  time  the  birth  was  announced, 


298  THINGS    AND    THOUGHTS    IN    EUROPE. 

and,  above,  God  the  Father,  with  many  angels  hailing  the 
event.  A  pretty  part  of  this  exhibition,  which  I  was  not  so 
fortunate  as  to  hit  upon,  though  I  went  twice  on  purpose,  is 
the  children  making  little  speeches  in  honor  of  the  occasion. 
Many  readers  will  remember  some  account  of  this  in  Andersen's 
"  Improvvisatore." 

The  last  time  I  went  was  the  grand  feast  in  honor  of  the  Bam 
bino.  The  church  was  entirely  full,  mostly  with  Contadini  and 
the  poorer  people,  absorbed  in  their  devotions :  one  man  near  me 
never  raised  his  head  or  stirred  from  his  knees  to  see  anything ; 
he  seemed  in  an  anguish  of  prayer,  either  from  repentance  or 
anxiety.  I  wished  I  could  have  hoped  the  ugly  little  doll  could 
do  him  any  good.  The  noble  stair  which  descends  from  the  great 
door  of  this  church  to  the  foot  of  the  Capitol,  —  a  stair  made  from 
fragments  of  the  old  imperial  time,  —  was  flooded  with  people ; 
the  street  below  was  a  rapid  river  also,  whose  waves  were  men. 
The  ceremonies  began  with  splendid  music  from  the  organ,  peal 
ing  sweetly  long  and  repeated  invocations.  As  if  answering  to 
this  call,  the  world  came  in,  many  dignitaries,  the  Conservatori, 
(I  think  conservatives  are  the  same  everywhere,  official  or  no,) 
and  did  homage  to  the  image  ;  then  men  in  white  and  gold,  with 
the  candles  they  are  so  fond  here  of  burning  by  daylight,  as  if  the 
poorest  artificial  were  better  than  the  greatest  natural  light,  up 
lifted  high  above  themselves  the  baby,  with  its  gilded  robes  and 
crown,  and  made  twice  the  tour  of  the  church,  passing  twice  the 
column  labelled  "  From  the  Home  of  Augustus,"  while  the  band 
played  —  what?  —  the  Hymn  to  Pius  IX.  and  "Sons  of  Rome, 
awake  ! "  Never  was  a  crueller  comment  upon  the  irreconcilable- 
ness  of  these  two  things.  Rome  seeks  to  reconcile  reform  and 
priestcraft. 

But  her  eyes  are  shut,  that  they  see  not.  0  awake  indeed, 
Romans !  and  you  will  see  that  the  Christ  who  is  to  save  men  is 
no  wooden  dingy  effigy  of  bygone  superstitions,  but  such  as  Art 
has  seen  him  in  your  better  mood,  —  a  Child,  living,  full  of  love, 
prophetic  of  a  boundless  future,  —  a  Man  acquainted  with  all 
sorrows  that  rend  the  heart  of  all,  and  ever  loving  man  with  sym- 


EXHIBITION    BY    THE   PROPAGANDA.  299 

pathy  and  faith  death  could  not  quench,  —  that  Christ  lives  and 
may  be  sought ;  burn  your  doll  of  wood. 

How  any  one  can  remain  a  Catholic — I  mean  who  has  ever 
been  aroused  to  think,  and  is  not  biassed  by  the  partialities  of 
childish  years  —  after  seeing  Catholicism  here  in  Italy,  I  cannot 
conceive.  There  was  once  a  soul  in  the  religion  while  the  blood 
of  its  martyrs  was  yet  fresh  upon  the  ground,  but  that  soul  was 
always  too  much  encumbered  with  the  remains  of  pagan  habits 
and  customs  :  that  soul  is  now  quite  fled  elsewhere,  and  in  the 
splendid  catafalco,  watched  by  so  many  white  and  red-robed 
snuff-taking,  sly-eyed  men,  would  they  let  it  be  opened,  nothing 
would  be  found  but  bones  ! 

Then  the  College  for  propagating  all  this,  the  most  venerable 
Propaganda,  has  given  its  exhibition  in  honor  of  the  Magi,  wise 
men  of  the  East  who  came  to  Christ.  I  was  there  one  day.  In 
conformity  with  the  general  spirit  of  Rome,  —  strangely  inconsist 
ent  in  a  country  where  the  Madonna  is  far  more  frequently  and  de 
voutly  worshipped  than  God  or  Christ,  in  a  city  where  at  least  as 
many  female  saints  and  martyrs  are  venerated  as  male,  —  there 
was  no  good  place  for  women  to  sit.  All  the  good  seats  were  for 
the  men  in  the  area  below,  but  in  the  gallery  windows,  and  from  the 
organ-loft,  a  few  women  were  allowed  to  peep  at  what  was  going 
on.  I  was  one  of  these  exceptional  characters.  The  exercises 
were  in  all  the  different  languages  under  the  sun.  It  would  have 
been  exceedingly  interesting  to  hear  them,  one  after  the  other, 
each  in  its  peculiar  cadence  and  inflection,  but  much  of  the  indi 
vidual  expression  was  taken  away  by  that  general  false  academic 
tone  which  is  sure  to  pervade  such  exhibitions  where  young  men 
speak  who  have  as  yet  nothing  to  say.  It  would  have  been  differ 
ent,  indeed,  if  we  could  have  heard  natives  of  all  those  countries, 
who  were  animated  by  real  feelings,  real  wants.  Still  it  was  in 
teresting,  particularly  the  language  and  music  of  Kurdistan,  and 
the  full-grown  beauty  of  the  Greek  after  the  ruder  dialects. 
Among  those  who  appeared  to  the  best  advantage  were  several 
blacks,  and  the  majesty  of  the  Latin  hexameters  was  confided  to 
a  full-blooded  Guinea  negro,  who  acquitted  himself  better  than 


300  THINGS    AND    THOUGHTS    IN    EUROPE. 

any  other  I  heard.  I  observed,  too,  the  perfectly  gentlemanly 
appearance  of  these  young  men,  and  that  they  had  nothing  of 
that  Cuffy  swagger  by  which  those  freed  from  a  servile  state  try 
to  cover  a  painful  consciousness  of  their  position  in  our  country. 
Their  air  was  self-possessed,  quiet  and  free  beyond  that  of  most 
of  the  whites. 

January  22,  2  o'clock,  P.  M. 

Pour,  pour,  pour  again,  dark  as  night,  —  many  people  coining 
in  to  see  me  because  they  don't  know  what  to  do  with  themselves. 
I  am  very  glad  to  see  them  for  the  same  reason  ;  this  atmosphere 
is  so  heavy,  I  seem  to  carry  the  weight  of  the  world  on  my  head 
and  feel  unfitted  for  every  exertion.  As  to  eating,  that  is  a  by 
gone  thing ;  wine,  coffee,  meat,  I  have  resigned ;  vegetables  are 
few  and  hard  to  have,  except  horrible  cabbage,  in  which  the  Ro 
mans  delight.  A  little  rice  still  remains,  which  I  take  with  pleas 
ure,  remembering  it  growing  in  the  rich  fields  of  Lombardy,  so 
green  and  full  of  glorious  liglit.  That  light  fell  still  more  beau 
tiful  on  the  tall  plantations  of  hemp,  but  it  is  dangerous  just  at 
present  to  think  of  what  is  made  from  hemp. 

This  week  all  the  animals  are  being  blessed,*  and  they  get  a 
gratuitous  baptism,  too,  the  while.  The  lambs  one  morning  were 
taken  out  to  the  church  of  St.  Agnes  for  this  purpose.  The  little 
companion  of  my  travels,  if  he  sees  this  letter,  will  remember  how 
often  we  saw  her  with  her  lamb  in  pictures.  The  horses  are 
being  blessed  by  St.  Antonio,  and  under  his  harmonizing  influence 
are  afterward  driven  through  the  city,  twelve  and  even  twenty  in 
hand.  They  are  harnessed  into  light  wagons,  and  men  run  beside 
them  to  guard  against  accident,  in  case  the  good  influence  of  the 
Saint  should  fail. 

This  morning  came  the  details  of  infamous  attempts  by  the 
Austrian  police  to  exasperate  the  students  of  Pavia.  The  way  is 
to  send  persons  to  smoke  cigars  in  forbidden  places,  who  insult 
those  who  are  obliged  to  tell  them  to  desist.  These  traps  seem 
particularly  shocking  when  laid  for  fiery  and  sensitive  young  men. 

*  One  of  Rome's  singular  customs.  — ED. 


NEWS    FROM    NAPLES,    FRANCE,    AND    SPAIN.  301 

The^  succeeded  :  the  students  were  lured  into  combat,  and  a  num 
ber  left  dead  and  wounded  on  both  sides.  The  University  is  shut 
up  ;  the  inhabitants  of  Pavia  and  Milan  have  put  on  mourning  ; 
even  at  the  theatre  they  wear  it.  The  Milanese  will  not  walk  in 
that  quarter  where  the  blood  of  their  fellow-citizens  has  been  so 
wantonly  shed.  They  have  demanded  a  legal  investigation  of  the 
conduct  of  the  officials. 

At  Piacenza  similar  attempts  have  been  made  to  excite  the 
Italians,  by  smoking  in  their  faces,  and  crying,  "  Long  live  the 
Emperor !"  It  is  a  worthy  homage  to  pay  to  the  Austrian  crown, 

—  this  offering  of  cigars  and  blood. 

"  0  this  offence  is  rank;  it  smells  to  Heaven." 

This  morning  authentic  news  is  received  from  Naples.  The 
king,  when  assured  by  his  own  brother  that  Sicily  was  in  a  state 
of  irresistible  revolt,  and  that  even  the  women  quelled  the  troops, 

—  showering  on  them  stones,  furniture,  boiling  oil,  such  means  of 
warfare  as  the  household  may  easily  furnish  to  a  thoughtful  ma 
tron,  —  had,  first,  a  stroke  of  apoplexy,  from  which  the  loss  of  a 
good  deal  of  bad  blood  relieved  him.     His  mind  apparently  hav 
ing  become  clearer  thereby,  he  has  offered  his  subjects  an  amnesty 
and  terms  of  reform,  which,  it  is  hoped,  will  arrive  before  his 
troops  have  begun  to  bombard  the  cities  in  obedience  to  earlier 
orders. 

Comes  also  to-day  the  news  that  the  French  Chamber  of  Peers 
propose  an  Address  to  the  King,  echoing  back  all  the  false 
hoods  of  his  speech,  including  those  upon  reform,  and  the  enor 
mous  one  that  "  the  peace  of  Europe  is  now  assured  " ;  but  that 
some  members  have  worthily  opposed  this  address,  and  spoken 
truth  in  an  honorable  manner. 

Also,  that  the  infamous  sacrifice  of  the  poor  little  queen  of 
Spain  puts  on  more  tragic  colors ;  that  it  is  pretended  she  has 
epilepsy,  and  she  is  to  be  made  to  renounce  the  throne,  which,  in 
deed,  has  been  a  terrific  curse  to  her.  And  Heaven  and  Earth 
have  looked  calmly  on,  while  the  king  of  France  has  managed 
all  this  with  the  most  unnatural  of  mothers. 
26 


302  THINGS    AND    THOUGHTS    IN    EUROPE. 

January.  27. 

This  morning  comes  the  plan  of  the  Address  of  the  Chamber  of 
Deputies  to  the  King :  it  contains  some  passages  that  are  keenest 
satire  upon  him,  as  also  some  remarks  which  have  been  made, 
some  words  of  truth  spoken  in  the  Chamber  of  Peers,  that  must 
have  given  him  some  twinges  of  nervous  shame  as  he  read.  M. 
Guizot's  speech  on  the  affairs  of  Switzerland  shows  his  usual 
shabbiness  and  falsehood.  Surely  never  prime  minister  stood  in 
so  mean  a  position  as  he :  one  like  Metternich  seems  noble  and 
manly  in  comparison  ;  for  if  there  is  a  cruel,  atheistical,  treacher 
ous  policy,  there  needs  not  at  least  continual  evasion  to  avoid 
declaring  in  words  what  is  so  glaringly  manifest  in  fact. 

There  is  news  that  the  revolution  has  now  broken  out  in 
Naples ;  that  neither  Sicilians  nor  Neapolitans  will  trust  the 
king,  but  demand  his  abdication  ;  and  that  his  bad  demon,  Coclo, 
has  fled,  carrying  two  hundred  thousand  ducats  of  gold.  But  in 
particulars  this  news  is  not  yet  sure,  though,  no  doubt,  there  is 
truth  at  the  bottom. 

Aggressions  on  the  part  of  the  Austrians  continue  in  the  North. 
The  advocates  Tommaso  and  Manin  (a  light  thus  reflected  on  the 
name  of  the  last  Doge),  having  dared  to  declare  formally  the 
necessity  of  reform,  are  thrown  into  prison.  Every  day  the 
cloud  swells,  and  the  next  fortnight  is  likely  to  bring  important 
tidings. 


LETTER    XXIII. 

Unpleasantness  of  a  Roman  Winter.  —  Progress  of  Events  in  Europe,  and 
their  Effect  upon  Italy.  —  The  Carnival.  —  Rain  interrupts  the  Gayety.  —  Re 
joicings  for  the  Revolutions  of  France  and  Austria.  —  Transports  of  the  People. 
—  Oblations  to  the  Cause  of  Liberty.  —  Castle  Fusano.  —  The  Weather,  Glad- 
someness  of  Nature,  and  the  Pleasure  of  Thought. 

Rome,  March  29,  1848. 

IT  is  long  since  I  have  written.  My  health  entirely  gave  way 
beneath  the  Roman  winter.  The  rain  was  constant,  commonly 
falling  in  torrents  from  the  16th  of  December  to  the  19th  of 
March.  Nothing  could  surpass  the  dirt,  the  gloom,  the  desolation, 
of  Rome.  Let  no  one  fancy  he  has  seen  her  who  comes  here 
only  in  the  winter.  It  is  an  immense  mistake  to  do  so.  I  can 
not  sufficiently  rejoice  that  I  did  not  first  see  Italy  in  the  winter. 

The  climate  of  Rome  at  this  time  of  extreme  damp  I  have 
found  equally  exasperating  and  weakening.  I  have  had  constant 
nervous  headache  without  strength  to  bear  it,  nightly  fever,  want 
of  appetite.  Some  constitutions  bear  it  better,  but  the  complaint 
of  weakness  and  extreme  dejection  of  spirits  is  general  among 
foreigners  in  the  wet  season.  The  English  say  they  become 
acclimated  in  two  or  three  years,  and  cease  to  suffer,  though  never 
so  strong  as  at  home. 

Now  this  long  dark  dream  —  to  me  the  most  idle  and  most 
suffering  season  of  my  life  —  seems  past.  The  Italian  heavens 
wear  again  their  deep  blue  ;  the  sun  shines  gloriously ;  the  mel 
ancholy  lustres  are  stealing  again  over  the  Campagna,  and  hun 
dreds  of  larks  sing  unwearied  above  its  ruins. 

Nature  seems  in  sympathy  with  the  great  events  that  are  trans 
piring, —  with  the  emotions  which  are  swelling  the  hearts  of  men. 


304  THINGS    AND    THOUGHTS    IN   EUROPE. 

The  morning  sun  is  greeted  by  the  trumpets  of  the  Roman  le 
gions  marching  out  once  more,  now  not  to  oppress  but  to  de 
fend.  The  stars  look  down  on  their  jubilees  over  the  good 
news  which  nightly  reaches  them  from  their  brothers  of  Lom- 
bardy.  This  week  has  been  one  of  nobler,  sweeter  feeling,  of  a 
better  hope  and  faith,  than  Rome  in  her  greatest  days  ever  knew. 
How  much  has  happened  since  I  wrote !  First,  the  victorious 
resistance  of  Sicily  and  the  revolution  of  Naples.  This  has  led 
us  yet  only  to  half-measures,  but  even  these  have  been  of  great 
use  to  the  progress  of  Italy.  The  Neapolitans  will  probably 
have  to  get  rid  at  last  of  the  stupid  crowned  head  who  is  at  pres 
ent  their  puppet;  but  their  bearing  with  him  has  led  to  the  wiser 
sovereigns  granting  these  constitutions,  which,  if  eventually  inad 
equate  to  the  wants  of  Italy,  will  be  so  useful,  are  so  needed,  to 
educate  her  to  seek  better,  completer  forms  of  administration. 

In  the  midst  of  all  this  serious  work  came  the  play  of  Carnival, 
in  which  there  was  much  less  interest  felt  than  usual,  but  enough 
to  dazzle  and  captivate  a  stranger.  One  thing,  however,  has 
been  omitted  in  the  description  of  the  Roman  Carnival ;  i.  e.  that 
it  rains  every  day.  Almost  every  day  came  on  violent  rain,  just 
as  the  tide  of  gay  masks  was  fairly  engaged  in  the  Corso.  This 
would  have  been  well  worth  bearing  once  or  twice,  for  the  sake  of 
seeing  the  admirable  good  humor  of  this  people.  Those  who  had 
laid  out  all  their  savings  in  the  gayest,  thinnest  dresses,  on  car 
riages  and  chairs  for  the  Corso,  found  themselves  suddenly 
drenched,  their  finery  spoiled,  and  obliged  to  ride  and  sit  shiver 
ing  all  the  afternoon.  But  they  never  murmured,  never  scolded, 
never  stopped  throwing  their  flowers.  Their  strength  of  consti 
tution  is  wonderful.  While  I,  in  my  shawl  and  boa,  was  coughing 
at  the  open  window  from  the  moment  I  inhaled  the  wet  sepulchral 
air,  the  servant-girls  of  the  house  had  taken  off  their  woollen 
gowns,  and,  arrayed  in  white  muslins  and  roses,  sat  in  the  drenched 
street  beneath  the  drenching  rain,  quite  happy,  and  have  suffered 
nothing  in  consequence. 

The  Romans  renounced  the  Mbccoletti,  ostensibly  as  an  ex 
pression  of  sympathy  for  the  sufferings  of  the  Milanese,  but  really 


DETHRONEMENT    OF   LOUIS    PHILIPPE.  305 

because,  at  that  time,  there  was  great  disturbance  about  the  Jes 
uits,  and  the  government  feared  that  difficulties  would  arise  in  the 
excitement  of  the  evening.  But,  since,  we  have  had  this  enter 
tainment  in  honor  of  the  revolutions  of  France  and  Austria,  and 
nothing  could  be  more  beautiful.  The  fun  usually  consists  in  all 
the  people  blowing  one  another's  lights  out.  We  had  not  this ;  all 
the  little  tapers  were  left  to  blaze,  and  the  long  Corso  swarmed 
with  tall  fire-flies.  Lights  crept  out  over  the  surface  of  all  the 
houses,  and  such  merry  little  twinkling  lights,  laughing  and  flick 
ering  with  each  slightest  movement  of  those  who  held  them  !  Up 
and  down  the  Corso  they  twinkled,  they  swarmed,  they  streamed, 
while  a  surge  of  gay  triumphant  sound  ebbed  and  flowed  beneath 
that  glittering  surface.  Here  and  there  danced  men  carrying 
aloft  moccoli,  and  clanking  chains,  emblem  of  the  tyrannic  power 
now  vanquished  by  the  people ;  —  the  people,  sweet  and  noble, 
who,  in  the  intoxication  of  their  joy,  were  guilty  of  no  rude  or 
unkindly  word  or  act,  and  who,  no  signal  being  given  as  usual  for 
the  termination  of  their  diversion,  closed,  of  their  own  accord  and 
with  one  consent,  singing  the  hymns  for  Pio,  by  nine  o'clock,  and 
retired  peacefully  to  their  homes,  to  dream  of  hopes  they  yet 
scarce  understand. 

This  happened  last  week.  The  news  of  the  dethronement  of 
Louis  Philippe  reached  us  just  after  the  close  of  the  Carnival.  It 
was  just  a  year  from  my  leaving  Paris.  I  did  not  think,  as  I 
looked  with  such  disgust  on  the  empire  of  sham  he  had  estab 
lished  in  France,  and  saw  the  soul  of  the  people  imprisoned  and 
held  fast  as  in  an  iron  vice,  that  it  would  burst  its  chains  so  soon. 
Whatever  be  the  result,  France  has  done  gloriously  ;  she  has  de 
clared  that  she  will  not  be  satisfied  with  pretexts  while  there  are 
facts  in  the  world,  — <-  that  to  stop  her  march  is  a  vain  attempt, 
though  the  onward  path  be  dangerous  and  difficult.  It  is  vain  to  cry, 
Peace  !  peace !  when  there  is  no  peace.  The  news  from  France, 
in  these  days,  sounds  ominous,  though  still  vague.  It  would  ap 
pear  that  the  political  is  being  merged  in  the  social  struggle  :  it  is 
well.  Whatever  blood  is  to  be  shed,  whatever  altars  cast  down, 
those  tremendous  problems  MUST  be  solved,  whatever  be  the 
26* 


306  THINGS    AND    THOUGHTS    IN   EUROPE. 

cost !  That  cost  cannot  fail  to  break  many  a  bank,  many  a  heart, 
in  Europe,  before  the  good  can  bud  again  out  of  a  mighty  corrup 
tion.  To  you,  people  of  America,  it  may  perhaps  be  given  to 
look  on  and  learn  in  time  for  a  preventive  wisdom.  You  may 
learn  the  real  meaning  of  the  words  FRATERNITY,  EQUAI  ITY  : 
you  may,  despite  the  apes  of  the  past  who  strive  to  tutor  you, 
learn  the  needs  of  a  true  democracy.  You  may  in  time  learn  to 
reverence,  learn  to  guard,  the  true  aristocracy  of  a  nation,  the 
only  really  nobles,  —  the  LABORING  CLASSES. 

And  Metternich,  too,  is  crushed ;  the  seed  of  the  woman  has 
had  his  foot  on  the  serpent.  I  have  seen  the  Austrian  arms 
dragged  through  the  streets  of  Rome  and  burned  in  the  Piazza 
del  Popolo.  The  Italians  embraced  one  another,  and  cried,  Mi- 
racolo !  Providenza  !  the  modern  Tribune  Ciceronacchio  fed  the 
flame  with  faggots ;  Adam  Mickiewicz,  the  great  poet  of  Poland, 
long  exiled  from  his  country  or  the  hopes  of  a  country,  looked  on, 
while  Polish  women,  exiled  too,  or  who  perhaps,  like  one  nun 
who  is  here,  had  been  daily  scourged  by  the  orders  of  a  tyrant, 
brought  little  pieces  that  had  been  scattered  in  the  street  and  threw 
them  into  the  flames,  —  an  offering  received  by  the  Italians  with 
loud  plaudits.  It  was  a  transport  of  the  people,  who  found  no 
way  to  vent  their  joy,  but  the  symbol,  the  poesy,  natural  to  the 
Italian  mind.  The  ever-too-wise  "  upper  classes  "  regret  it,  and 
the  Germans  choose  to  resent  it  as  an  insult  to  Germany ;  but  it 
was  nothing  of  the  kind  ;  the  insult  was  to  the  prisons  of  Spiel 
berg,  to  those  who  commanded  the  massacres  of  Milan, —  a  base 
tyranny  little  congenial  to  the  native  German  heart,  as  the  true 
Germans  of  Germany  are  at  this  moment  showing  by  their 
resolves,  by  their  struggles. 

When  the  double-headed  eagle  was  pulled  down  from  above 
the  lofty  portal  of  the  Palazzo  di  Venezia,  the  people  placed 
there  in  its  stead  one  of  white  and  gold,  inscribed  with  the  name 
ALTA  ITALIA,  and  quick  upon  the  emblem  followed  the  news 
that  Milan  was  fighting  against  her  tyrants,  —  that  Venice  had 
driven  them  out  and  freed  from  their  prisons  the  courageous 
Protestants  in  favor  of  truth,  Tommaso  and  Manin,  —  that  Ma- 


OBLATIONS    TO    THE    CAUSE    OF    LIBERTY.  307 

nin,  descendant  of  the  last  Doge,  had  raised  the  republican  ban 
ner  on  the  Place  St.  Mark,  —  and  that  Modena,  that  Parma, 
were  driving  out  the  unfeeling  and  imbecile  creatures  who  had 
mocked  Heaven  and  man  by  the  pretence  of  government  there. 

With  indescribable  rapture  these  tidings  were  received  in  Rome. 
Men  were  seen  dancing,  women  weeping  with  joy  along  the  street. 
The  youth  rushed  to  enroll  themselves  in  regiments  to  go  to  the 
frontier.  In  the  Colosseum  their  names  were  received.  Father 
Gavazzi,  a  truly  patriotic  monk,  gave  them  the  cross  to  carry  on 
a  new,  a  better,  because  defensive,  crusade.  Sterbini,  long  exiled, 
addressed  them.  He  said  :  "  Romans,  do  you  wish  to  go  ;  do  you 
wish  to  go  with  all  your  hearts  ?  If  so,  you  may,  and  those  who 
do  not  wish  to  go  themselves  may  give  money.  To  those  who 
will  go,  the  government  gives  bread  and  fifteen  baiocchi  a  day." 
The  people  cried :  "  We  wish  to  go,  but  we  do  not  wish  so  much  ; 
the  government  is  very  poor ;  we  can  live  on  a  paul  a  day."  The 
princes  answered  by  giving,  one  sixty  thousand,  others  twenty, 
fifteen,  ten  thousand  dollars.  The  people  responded  by  giving  at 
the  benches  which  are  opened  in  the  piazzas  literally  everything ; 
street-pedlers  gave  the  gains  of  each  day;  women  gave  every 
ornament,  —  from  the  splendid  necklace  and  bracelet  down  to  the 
poorest  bit  of  coral ;  servant-girls  gave  five  pauls,  two  pauls,  even 
half  a  paul,  if  they  had  no  more.  A  man  all  in  rags  gave  two 
pauls.  "  It  is,"  said  he,  "  all  I  have."  "  Then,"  said  Torlonia, 
"  take  from  me  this  dollar."  The  man  of  rags  thanked  him  warmly, 
and  handed  that  also  to  the  bench,  which  refused  to  receive  it. 
"  No  !  that  must  stay  with  you,"  shouted  all  present.  These  are 
the  people  whom  the  traveller  accuses  of  being  unable  to  rise 
above  selfish  considerations ;  —  a  nation  rich  and  glorious  by 
nature,  capable,  like  all  nations,  all  men,  of  being  degraded  by 
slavery,  capable,  as  are  few  nations,  few  men,  of  kindling  into  pure 
flame  at  the  touch  of  a  ray  from  the  Sun  of  Truth,  of  Life. 

The  two  or  three  days  that  followed,  the  troops  were  marching 
about  by  detachments,  followed  always  by  the  people,  to  the  Ponte 
Molle,  often  farther.  The  women  wept ;  for  the  habits  of  the 
Romans  are  so  domestic,  that  it  seemed  a  great  thing  to  have 


308  THINGS    AND    THOUGHTS    IN    EUROPE. 

their  sons  and  lovers  gone  even  for  a  few  months.  The  English 
—  or  at  least  those  of  the  illiberal,  bristling  nature  too  often  met 
here,  which  casts  out  its  porcupine  quills  against  everything  like 
enthusiasm  (of  the  more  generous  Saxon  blood  I  know  some 
noble  examples)  —  laughed  at  all  this.  They  have  said  that  this 
people  would  not  fight ;  when  the  Sicilians,  men  and  women,  did 
so  nobly,  they  said :  "  O,  the  Sicilians  are  quite  unlike  the  Ital 
ians  ;  you  will  see,  when  the  struggle  comes  on  in  Lombardy, 
they  cannot  resist  the  Austrian  force  a  moment."  I  said :  "  That 
force  is  only  physical ;  do  not  you  think  a  sentiment  can  sustain 
them  ?  "  They  replied :  "  All  stuff  and  poetry  ;  it  will  fade  the 
moment  their  blood  flows."  When  the  news  came  that  the  Milan 
ese,  men  and  women,  fight  as  the  Sicilians  did,  they  said :  "  Well, 
the  Lombards  are  a  better  race,  but  these  Romans  are  good  for 
nothing.  It  is  a  farce  for  a  Roman  to  try  to  walk  even ;  they 
never  walk  a  mile;  they  will  not  be  able  to  support  the  first 
day's  march  of  thirty  miles,  and  not  have  their  usual  minestra 
to  eat  either."  Now  the  troops  were  not  willing  to  wait  for  the 
government  to  make  the  necessary  arrangements  for  their  march, 
so  at  the  first  night's  station  —  Monterosi  —  they  did  not  find  food 
or  bedding;  yet  the  second  night,  at  Civita  Castellana,  they  were 
so  well  alive  as  to  remain  dancing  and  vivaing  Pio  Nono  in  the 
piazza  till  after  midnight.  No,  Gentlemen,  soul  is  not  quite  noth 
ing,  if  matter  be  a  clog  upon  its  transports. 

The  Americans  show  a  better,  warmer  feeling  than  they  did ; 
the  meeting  in  New  York  was  of  use  in  instructing  the  Ameri 
cans  abroad !  The  dinner  given  here  on  Washington's  birthday 
was  marked  by  fine  expressions  of  sentiment,  and  a  display  of 
talent  unusual  on  such  occasions.  There  was  a  poem  from  Mr. 
Story  of  Boston,  which  gave  great  pleasure ;  a  speech  by  Mr. 
Hillard,  said  to  be  very  good,  and  one  by  Rev.  Mr.  Hedge  of 
Bangor,  exceedingly  admired  for  the  felicity  of  thought  and  image, 
and  the  finished  beauty  of  style. 

Next  week  we  shall  have  more  news,  and  I  shall  try  to  write 
and  mention  also  some  interesting  things  want  of  time  obliges  me 
to  omit  in  this  letter. 


FREEDOM   FOR   ITALY.  309 

April  1. 

Yesterday  I  passed  at  Ostia  and  Castle  Fusano.  A  million 
birds  sang ;  the  woods  teemed  with  blossoms ;  the  sod  grew 
green  hourly  over  the  graves  of  the  mighty  Past;  the  surf 
rushed  in  on  a  fair  shore;  the  Tiber  majestically  retreated  to 
carry  inland  her  share  from  the  treasures  of  the  deep ;  the  sea- 
breezes  burnt  my  face,  but  revived  my  heart.  I  felt  the  calm 
of  thought,  the  sublime  hopes  of  the  future,  nature,  man,  —  so 
great,  though  so  little,  —  so  dear,  though  incomplete.  Returning 
to  Rome,  I  find  the  news  pronounced  official,  that  the  viceroy 
Ranieri  has  capitulated  at  Verona ;  that  Italy  is  free,  independent, 
and  one.  I  trust  this  will  prove  no  April-foolery,  no  premature 
news  ;  it  seems  too  good,  too  speedy  a  realization  of  hope,  to  have 
come  on  earth,  and  can  only  be  answered  in  the  words  of  the 
proclamation  made  yesterday  by  Pius  IX. :  — 

"  The  events  which  these  two  months  past  have  seen  rush  after 
one  another  in  rapid  succession,  are  no  human  work.  Woe  to 
him  who,  in  this  wind,  which  shakes  and  tears  up  alike  the  lofty 
cedars  and  humble  shrubs,  hears  not  the  voice  of  God !  Woe  to 
human  pride,  if  to  the  fault  or  merit  of  any  man  whatsoever  it 
refer  these  wonderful  changes,  instead  of  adoring  the  mysterious 
designs  of  Providence." 


LETTER    XXIV. 

Affairs  in  Italy. —  The  Provisional  Government  of  Milan.  —  Address  to  the 
German  Nation.  —  Brotherhood,  and  the  Independence  of  Italy.  —  The  Pro 
visional  Government  to  the  Nations  subject  to  the  Rule  of  the  House  of  Aus 
tria.  —  Reflections  on  these  Movements.  —  Lamartine.  —  Beranger.  —  Mickie- 
wicz  in  Florence:  Enthusiastic  Reception:  styled  the  Dante  of  Poland:  his 
Address  before  the  Florentines.  —  Exiles  returning.  —  Mazzini.  —  The  Position 
of  Pius  IX.  —  His  Dereliction  from  the  Cause  of  Freedom  and  of  Progress. — 
The  Affair  of  the  Jesuits.  —  His  Course  in  various  Matters.  —  Language  of 
the  People.  —  The  Work  begun  by  Napoleon  virtually  finished.  —  The  Loss  of 
Pius  IX.  for  the  Moment  a  great  one.  —  The  Responsibility  of  Events  lying 
wholly  with  the  People.  —  Hopes  and  Prospects  of  the  Future. 

Rome,  April  19,  1848. 

IN  closing  my  last,  I  hoped  to  have  some  decisive  intelligence 
to  impart  by  this  time,  as  to  the  fortunes  of  Italy.  But  though 
everything,  so  far,  turns  in  her  favor,  there  has  been  no  decisive 
battle,  no  final  stroke.  It  pleases  me  much,  as  the  news 
comes  from  day  to  day,  that  I  passed  so  leisurely  last  summer 
over  that  part  of  Lombardy  now  occupied  by  the  opposing  forces, 
that  I  have  in  my  mind  the  faces  both  of  the  Lombard  and  Aus 
trian  leaders.  A  number  of  the  present  members  of  the  Provis 
ional  Government  of  Milan  I  knew  while  there ;  they  are  men 
of  twenly-eight  and  thirty,  much  more  advanced  in  thought  than 
the  Moderates  of  Rome,  Naples,  Tuscany,  who  are  too  much 
fettered  with  a  bygone  state  of  things,  and  not  on  a  par  in  thought, 
knowledge,  preparation  for  the  great  future,  with  the  rest  of  the 
civilized  world  at  this  moment.  The  papers  that  emanate  from 
the  Milanese  government  are  far  superior  in  tone  to  any  that 
have  been  uttered  by  the  other  states.  Their  protest  in  favor  of 
their  rights,  their  addresses  to  the  Germans  at  large  and  the  coun 
tries  under  the  dominion  of  Austria,  are  full  of  nobleness  and 


MILANESE    ADDRESS    TO    THE    GERMANS.  311 

thoughts  sufficiently  great  for  the  use  of  the  coming  age.  These 
addresses  I  translate,  thinking  they  may  not  in  other  form  reach 
America. 

"THE   PROVISIONAL  GOVERNMENT  OF  MILAN  TO  THE  GER 
MAN  NATION. 

"  We  hail  you  as  brothers,  valiant,  learned,  generous  Germans  ! 

"  This  salutation  from  a  people  just  risen  after  a  terrible  strug 
gle  to  self-consciousness  and  to  the  exercise  of  its  rights,  ought 
deeply  to  move  your  magnanimous  hearts. 

"  We  deem  ourselves  worthy  to  utter  that  great  word  Brother 
hood,  which  effaces  among  nations  the  traditions  of  all  ancient 
hate,  and  we  proffer  it  over  the  new-made  graves  of  our  fellow- 
citizens,  who  have  fought  and  died  to  give  us  the  right  to  proffer 
it  without  fear  or  shame. 

"  We  call  brothers  men  of  all  nations  who  believe  and  hope  in 
the  improvement  of  the  human  family,  and  seek  the  occasion  to 
further  it ;  but  you,  especially,  we  call  brothers,  you  Germans, 
with  whom  we  have  in  common  so  many  noble  sympathies,  — 
the  love  of  the  arts  and  higher  studies,  the  delight  of  noble  con 
templation,  —  with  whom  also  we  have  much  correspondence  in 
our  civil  destinies. 

"  With  you  are  of  first  importance  the  interests  of  the  great 
country,  Germany,  —  with  us,  those  of  the  great  country,  Italy. 

"  We  were  induced  to  rise  in  arms  against  Austria,  (we  mean, 
not  the  people,  but  the  government  of  Austria,)  not  only  by  the 
need  of  redeeming  ourselves  from  the  shame  and  grief  of  thirty- 
one  years  of  the  most  abject  despotism,  but  by  a  deliberate  re_ 
solve  to  take  our  place  upon  the  plane  of  nations,  to  unite  with 
our  brothers  of  the  Peninsula,  and  take  rank  with  them  under 
the  great  banner  raised  by  Pius  IX.,  on  which  is  written,  THE 
INDEPENDENCE  OF  ITALY. 

"  Can  you  blame  us,  independent  Germans  ?  In  blaming  us, 
you  would  sink  beneath  your  history,  beneath  your  most  honored 
and  recent  declarations. 

"  We  have  chased  the  Austrian  from  our  soil ;  we  shall  give 


312  THINGS    AND    THOUGHTS    IN    EUROPE. 

ourselves  no  repose  till  we  have  chased  him  from  all  parts  of 
Italy.  To  this  enterprise  we  are  all  sworn  ;  for  this  fights  our 
army  enrolled  in  every  part  of  the  Peninsula,  —  an  army  of  broth 
ers  led  by  the  king  of  Sardinia,  who  prides  himself  on  being  the 
sword  of  Italy. 

"  And  the  Austrian  is  not  more  our  enemy  than  yours. 

"  The  Austrian  —  we  speak  still  of  the  government,  and  not 
of  the  people  —  has  always  denied  and  contradicted  the  interests 
of  the  whole  German  nation,  at  the  head  of  an  assemblage  of  races 
differing  in  language,  in  customs,  in  institutions.  When  it  was 
in  his  power  to  have  corrected  the  errors  of  time  and  a  dynastic 
policy,  by  assuming  the  high  mission  of  uniting  them  by  great 
moral  interests,  he  preferred  to  arm  one  against  the  other,  and  to 
corrupt  them  all. 

"  Fearing  every  noble  instinct,  hostile  to  every  grand  idea, 
devoted  to  the  material  interests  of  an  oligarchy  of  princes 
spoiled  by  a  senseless  education,  of  ministers  who  had  sold 
their  consciences,  of  speculators  who  subjected  and  sacrificed 
everything  to  gold,  the  only  aim  of  such  a  government  was  to 
sow  division  everywhere.  What  wonder  if  everywhere  in  Italy, 
as  in  Germany,  it  reaps  harvests  of  hate  and  ignominy.  Yes,  of 
hate !  To  this  the  Austrian  has  condemned  us,  to  know  hate  and 
its  deep  sorrows.  But  we  are  absolved  in  the  sight  of  God,  and  by 
the  insults  which  have  been  heaped  upon  us  for  so  many  years, 
the  unwearied  efforts  to  debase  us,  the  destruction  of  our  villages, 
the  cold-blooded  slaughter  of  our  aged  people,  our  priests,  our 
women,  our  children.  And  you,  —  you  shall  be  the  first  to  ab 
solve  us,  you,  virtuous  among  the  Germans,  who  certainly  have 
shared  our  indignation  when  a  venal  and  lying  press  accused  us 
of  being  enemies  to  your  great  and  generous  nation,  and  we  could 
not  answer,  and  were  constrained  to  devour  in  silence  the  shame 
of  an  accusation  which  wounded  us  to  the  heart. 

"  We  honor  you,  Germans  !  we  pant  to  give  you  glorious  evi 
dence  of  this.  And,  as  a  prelude  to  the  friendly  relations  we 
hope  to  form  with  your  governments,  we  seek  to  alleviate  as 
much  as  possible  the  pains  of  captivity  to  some  officers  and 


ADDRESS    TO    NATIONS    UNDER    AUSTRIAN   RULE.  313 

soldiers  belonging  to  various  states  of  the  Germanic  Confederation, 
who  fought  in  the  Austrian  army.  These  we  wish  to  send  back 
to  you,  and  are  occupied  by  seeking  the  means  to  effect  this  pur 
pose.  We  honor  you  so  much,  that  we  believe  you  capable  of 
preferring  to  the  bonds  of  race  and  language  the  sacred  titles  of 
misfortune  and  of  right. 

"  Ah !  answer  to  our  appeal,  valiant,  wise,  and  generous  Ger 
mans  !  Clasp  the  hand  which  we  offer  you  with  the  heart  of  a 
brother  and  friend  ;  hasten  to  disavow  every  appearance  of  com 
plicity  with  a  government  which  the  massacres  of  Galicia  and 
Lombardy  have  blotted  from  the  list  of  civilized  and  Christian 
governments.  It  would  be  a  beautiful  thing  for  you  to  give  this 
example,  which  will  be  new  in  history  and  worthy  of  these  miracu 
lous  times,  —  the  example  of  a  strong  and  generous  people  casting 
aside  other  sympathies,  other  interests,  to  answer  the  invitation  of 
a  regenerate  people,  to  cheer  it  in  its  new  career,  obedient  to  the 
great  principles  of  justice,  of  humanity,  of  civil  and  Christian 
brotherhood." 

"  THE  PROVISIONAL  GOVERNMENT  OF  MILAN  TO  THE  NATIONS 
SUBJECT  TO  THE  RULE  OF  THE  HOUSE  OF  AUSTRIA. 

"  From  your  lands  have  come  three  armies  which  have  brought 
war  into  ours ;  your  speech  is  spoken  by  those  hostile  bands  who 
come  to  us  with  fire  and  sword ;  nevertheless  we  come  to  you  as 
to  brothers. 

"  The  war  which  calls  for  our  resistancee  is  not  your  war ;  you 
are  not  our  enemies  :  you  are  only  instruments  in  the  hand  of  our 
foe,  and  this  foe,  brothers,  is  common  to  us  all. 

"  Before  God,  before  men,  solemnly  we  declare  it,  —  our  only 
enemy  is  the  government  of  Austria. 

"  And  that  government  which  for  so  many  years  has  labored 
to  cancel,  in  the  races  it  has  subdued,  every  vestige  of  nation 
ality,  which  takes  no  heed  of  their  wants  or  prayers,  bent  only  on 
serving  miserable  interests  and  more  miserable  pride,  foment 
ing  always  antipathies  conformably  with  the  ancient  maxim  of 
tyrants,  Divide  and  govern,  —  this  government  has  constituted 
27 


314  THINGS    AND    THOUGHTS    IN    EUROPE. 

itself  the  adversary  of  every  generous  thought,  the  ally  and  patron 
of  all  ignoble  causes,  the  government  declared  by  the  whole  civil 
ized  world  paymaster  of  the  executioners  of  Galicia. 

"  This  government,  after  having  pertinaciously  resisted  the 
legal  expression  of  moderate  desires,  —  after  having  defied  with 
ludicrous  hauteur  the  opinion  of  Europe,  has  found  itself  in  its 
metropolis  too  weak  to  resist  an  insurrection  of  students,  and 
has  yielded,  —  has  yielded,  making  an  assignment  on  time,  and 
throwing  to  you,  brothers,  as  an  alms-gift  to  the  importunate  beg 
gar,  the  promise  of  institutions  which,  in  these  days,  are  held  es 
sential  conditions  of  life  for  a  civilized  nation. 

"  But  you  have  not  confided  in  this  promise  ;  for  the  youth  of 
Vienna,  which  feels  the  inspiring  breath  of  this  miraculous  time, 
is  impelled  on  the  path  of  progress  ;  and  therefore  the  Austrian 
government,  uncertain  of  itself  and  of  your  dispositions,  took  its 
old  part  of  standing  still  to  wait  for  events,  in  the  hope  of  turning 
them  to  its  own  profit. 

<k  In  the  midst  of  this  it  received  the  news  of  our  glorious  revo 
lution,  and  it  thought  to  have  found  in  this  the  best  way  to  escape 
from  its  embarrassment.  First  it  concealed  that  news  ;  then 
made  it  known  piecemeal,  and  disfigured  by  hypocrisy  and  hatred. 
We  were  a  handful  of  rebels  thirsting  for  German  blood.  We 
make  a  war  of  stilettos,  we  wish  the  destruction  of  all  Germany. 
But  for  us  answers  the  admiration  of  all  Italy,  of  all  Europe,  even 
the  evidence  of  your  own  people  whom  we  are  constrained  to  hold 
prisoners  or  hostages,  who  will  unanimously  avow  that  we  have 
shown  heroic  courage  in  the  fight,  heroic  moderation  in  victory. 

"  Yes !  we  have  risen  as  one  man  against  the  Austrian  govern 
ment,  to  become  again  a  nation,  to  make  common  cause  with  our 
Italian  brothers,  and  the  arms  which  we  have  assumed  for  so 
great  an  object  we  shall  not  lay  down  till  we  have  attained  it. 
Assailed  by  a  brutal  executor  of  brutal  orders,  we  have  com 
bated  in  a  just  war ;  betrayed,  a  price  set  on  our  heads,  wounded 
in  the  most  vital  parts,  we  have  not  transgressed  the  bounds  of 
legitimate  defence.  The  murders,  the  depredations  of  the  hostile 
band,  irritated  against  us  by  most  wicked  arts,  have  excited  our 


ADDRESS    TO    NATIONS    UNDER   AUSTRIAN    RULE.  315 

horror,  but  never  a  reprisal.     The  soldier,  his  arms  once  laid 
down,  was  for  us  only  an  unfortunate. 

"  But  behold  how  the  Austrian  government  provokes  you 
against  us,  and  bids  you  come  against  us  as  a  crusade  !  A  crusade  ! 
The  parody  would  be  ludicrous  if  it  were  not  so  cruel.  A  crusade 
against  a  people  which,  in  the  name  of  Christ,  under  a  banner 
blessed  by  the  Vicar  of  Christ,  and  revered  by  all  the  nations, 
fights  to  secure  its  indefeasible  rights. 

"  Oh  !  if  you  form  against  us  this  crusade,  —  we  have  already 
shown  the  world  what  a  people  can  do  to  reconquer  its  liberty, 
its  independence,  —  we  will  show,  also,  what  it  can  do  to  preserve 
them.  If,  almost  unarmed,  we  have  put  to  flight  an  army  inured 
to  war,  —  surely,  brothers,  that  army  wanted  faith  in  the  cause  for 
which  it  fought,  —  can  we  fear  that  our  courage  will  grow  faint 
after  our  triumph,  and  when  aided  by  all  our  brothers  of  Italy  ? 
Let  the  Austrian  government  send  against  us  its  threatened  bat 
talions,  they  will  find  in  our  breasts  a  barrier  more  insuperable 
than  the  Alps.  Everything  will  be  a  weapon  to  us  ;  from  every 
villa,  from  every  field,  from  every  hedge,  will  issue  defenders  of 
the  national  cause  ;  women  and  children  will  fight  like  men ;  men 
will  centuple  their  strength,  their  courage  ;  and  we  will  all  perish 
amid  the  ruins  of  our  city,  before  receiving  foreign  rule  into  this 
land  which  at  last  we  call  ours. 

"  But  this  must  not  be.  You,  our  brothers,  must  not  permit  it 
to  be  ;  your  honor,  your  interests,  do  not  permit  it.  Will  you  fight 
in  a  cause  which  you  must  feel  to  be  absurd  and  wicked?  You 
sink  to  the  condition  of  hirelings,  and  do  you  not  believe  that  the 
Austrian  government,  should  it  conquer  us  and  Italy,  would  turn 
against  you  the  arms  you  had  furnished  for  the  conquest  ?  Do 
you  not  believe  it  would  act  as  after  the  struggle  with  Napoleon  ? 
And  are  you  not  terrified  by  the  idea  of  finding  yourself  in  con 
flict  with  all  civilized  Europe,  and  constrained  to  receive,  to  feast 
as  your  ally,  the  Autocrat  of  Russia,  that  perpetual  terror  to  the 
improvement  and  independence  of  Europe  ?  It  is  not  possible  for 
the  house  of  Lorraine  to  forget  its  traditions  ;  it  is  not  possible 
that  it  should  resign  itself  to  live  tranquil  in  the  atmosphere  of 


316  THINGS    AND    THOUGHTS    IN    EUROPE. 

Liberty.  You  can  only  constrain  it  by  sustaining  yourself,  with 
the  Germanic  and  Slavonian  nationalities,  and  with  this  Italy, 
which  longs  only  to  see  the  nations  harmonize  with  that  resolve 
which  she  has  finally  taken,  that  she  may  never  more  be  torn  in 
pieces. 

"  Think  of  us,  brothers.  This  is  for  you  and  for  us  a  question 
of  life  and  of  death ;  it  is  a  question  on  which  depends,  perhaps, 
the  peace  of  Europe. 

"  For  ourselves,  we  have  already  weighed  the  chances  of  the 
struggle,  and  subordinated  them  all  to  this  final  resolution,  that 
we  will  be  free  and  independent,  with  our  brothers  of  Italy. 

"  We  hope  that  our  words  will  induce  you  to  calm  counsels ;  if 
not,  you  will  find  us  on  the  field  of  battle  generous  and  loyal  ene 
mies,  as  now  we  profess  ourselves  your  generous  and  loyal 
brothers. 

(Signed,)  "  CASATI,  President,   BORROMEO, 

DURINI,  P.  LITTA, 

STRIGELLI,  GIULINI, 

BERETTA,  GUERRIERI, 

GRAPPI,  PORRO, 

TURRONI,  MORRONI, 

REZZONICO,  AB.  ANELLI, 

CARBONERA,  CORRENTI,  Sec.-Gen" 

These  are  the  names  of  men  whose  hearts  glow  with  that  gener 
ous  ardor,  the  noble  product  of  difficult  times.  Into  their  hearts 
flows  wisdom  from  on  high,  —  thoughts  great,  magnanimous,  broth 
erly.  They  may  not  all  remain  true  to  this  high  vocation,  but,  at 
any  rate,  they  will  have  lived  a  period  of  true  life.  I  knew  some  of 
these  men  when  in  Lombardy ;  of  old  aristocratic  families,  with  all 
the  refinement  of  inheritance  and  education,  they  are  thoroughly 
pervaded  by  principles  of  a  genuine  democracy  of  brotherhood 
and  justice.  In  the  flower  of  their  age,  they  have  before  them  a 
long  career  of  the  noblest  usefulness,  if  this  era  follows  up  its 
present  promise,  and  they  are  faithful  to  their  present  creed,  and 
ready  to  improve  and  extend  it. 


MICKIEWICZ    IN    FLORENCE.  317 

E\ery  day  produces  these  remarkable  documents.  So  many 
years  as  we  have  been  suffocated  and  poisoned  by  the  atmosphere 
of  falsehood  in  official  papers,  how  refreshing  is  the  tone  of  noble 
sentiment  in  Lamartine  !  What  a  real  wisdom  and  pure  dignity 
in  the  letter  of  Beranger !  He  was  always  absolutely  true,  —  an 
oasis  in  the  pestilential  desert  of  Humbug  ;  but  the  present  time 
allowed  him  a  fine  occasion. 

The  Poles  have  also  made  noble  manifestations.  Their  great 
poet,  Adam  Mickiewicz,  has  been  here  to  enroll  the  Italian  Poles, 
publish  the  declaration  of  faith  in  which  they  hope  to  re-enter  and 
re-establish  their  country,  and  receive  the  Pope's  benediction  on 
their  banner.  In  their  declaration  of  faith  are  found  these  three 
articles  :  — 

"  Every  one  of  the  nation  a  citizen,  —  every  citizen  equal  in 
rights  and  before  authorities. 

"  To  the  Jew,  our  elder  brother,  respect,  brotherhood,  aid  on  the 
way  to  his  eternal  and  terrestrial  good,  entire  equality  in  political 
and  civil  rights. 

"  To  the  companion  of  life,  woman,  citizenship,  entire  equality 
of  rights." 

This  last  expression  of  just  thought  the  Poles  ought  to  initiate, 
for  what  other  nation  has  had  such  truly  heroic  women  ?  Women 
indeed,  —  not  children,  servants,  or  playthings. 

Mickiewicz,  with  the  squadron  that  accompanied  him  from 
Rome,  was  received  with  the  greatest  enthusiasm  at  Florence. 
Deputations  from  the  clubs  and  journals  went  to  his  hotel  and 
escorted  him  to  the  Piazza  del  Gran  Diica,  where,  amid  an  im 
mense  concourse  of  people,  some  good  speeches  were  made.  A 
Florentine,  with  a  generous  forgetfulness  of  national  vanity,  ad 
dressed  him  as  the  Dante  of  Poland,  who,  more  fortunate  than 
the  great  bard  and  seer  of  Italy,  was  likely  to  return  to  his 
country  to  reap  the  harvest  of  the  seed  he  had  sown. 

"  O  Dante  of  Poland !  who,  like  our  Alighieri,  hast  received 
from  Heaven  sovereign  genius,  divine  song,  but  from  earth  suf 
ferings  and  exile,  —  more  happy  than  our  Alighieri,  thou  hast  re- 
acquired  a  country ;  already  thou  art  meditating  on  the  sacred 
27* 


318  THINGS    AND    THOUGHTS    IN    EUROPE. 

harp  the  patriotic  hymn  of  restoration  and  of  victory.  The  pil 
grims  of  Poland  have  become  the  warriors  of  their  nation.  Long 
live  Poland,  and  the  brotherhood  of  nations  ! " 

When  this  address  was  finished,  the  great  poet  appeared  on 
the  balcony  to  answer.  The  people  received  him  with  a  tumult 
of  applause,  followed  by  a  profound  silence,  as  they  anxiously 
awaited  his  voice.  Those  who  are  acquainted  with  the  powerful 
eloquence,  the  magnetism,  of  Mickiewicz  as  an  orator,  will  not  be 
surprised  at  the  effect  produced  by  this  speech,  though  delivered 
in  a  foreign  language.  It  is  the  force  of  truth,  the  great  vitality 
of  his  presence,  that  loads  his  words  with  such  electric  power. 
He  spoke  as  follows :  — 

"  People  of  Tuscany  !  Friends  !  Brothers  !  We  receive 
your  shouts  of  sympathy  in  the  name  of  Poland  ;  not  for  us,  but 
for  our  country.  Our  country,  though  distant,  claims  from  you 
this  sympathy  by  its  long  martyrdom.  The  glory  of  Poland,  its 
only  glory,  truly  Christian,  is  to  have  suffered  more  than  all  the 
nations.  In  other  countries  the  goodness,  the  generosity  of  heart, 
of  some  sovereigns  protected  the  people ;  as  yours  has  enjoyed 
the  dawn  of  the  era  now  coming,  under  the  protection  of  your 
excellent  prince.  [Viva  Leopold  II. !]  But  conquered  Poland, 
slave  and  victim  of  sovereigns  who  were  her  sworn  enemies  and 
executioners,  —  Poland,  abandoned  by  the  governments  and  the 
nations,  lay  in  agony  on  her  solitary  Golgotha.  She  was  believed 
slain,  dead,  buried.  *  We  have  slain  her,'  shouted  the  despots  ; 
1  she  is  dead  ! '  [No,  no  !  long  live  Poland  !]  '  The  dead  cannot 
rise  again,'  replied  the  diplomatists ;  *  we  may  now  be  tranquil.' 
[A  universal  shudder  of  feeling  in  the  crowd.]  There  came  a 
moment  in  which  the  world  doubted  of  the  mercy  and  justice  of 
the  Omnipotent.  There  was  a  moment  in  which  the  nations 
thought  that  the  earth  might  be  for  ever  abandoned  by  God,  and 
condemned  to  the  rule  of  the  demon,  its  ancient  lord.  The  na 
tions  forgot  that  Jesus  Christ  came  down  from  heaven  to  give 
liberty  and  peace  to  the  earth.  The  nations  had  forgotten  all  this. 
But  God  is  just.  The  voice  of  Pius  IX.  roused  Italy.  [Long 
live  Pius  IX. !]  The  people  of  Paris  have  driven  out  the  great 


SPEECH    OF   MICEIEWICZ.  319 

traitor  against  the  cause  of  the  nations.  [Bravo!  Viva  the 
people  of  Paris  !]  Very  soon  will  be  heard  the  voice  of  Poland. 
Poland  will  rise  again !  [Yes,  yes !  Poland  will  rise  again !] 
Poland  will  call  to  life  all  the  Slavonic  races,  —  the  Croats,  the 
Dalmatians,  the  Bohemians,  the  Moravians,  the  Illyrians.  These 
will  form  the  bulwark  against  the  tyrant  of  the  North.  [Great 
applause.]  They  will  close  for  ever  the  way  against  the  barba 
rians  of  the  North,  —  destroyers  of  liberty  and  of  civilization. 
Poland  is  called  to  do  more  yet :  Poland,  as  crucified  nation,  is 
ris -n  again,  and  called  to  serve  her  sister  nations.  The  will  of 
God  is,  that  Christianity  should  become  in  Poland,  and  through 
Poland  elsewhere,  no  more  a  dead  letter  of  the  law,  but  the  living 
law  of  states  and  civil  associations  ;  —  [Great  applause  ;]  —  that 
Christianity  should  be  manifested  by  acts,  the  sacrifices  of  gen 
erosity  and  liberality.  This  Christianity  is  not  new  to  you,  Floren 
tines  ;  your  ancient  republic  knew  and  has  acted  upon  it:  it  is  time 
that  the  same  spirit  should  make  to  itself  a  larger  sphere.  The 
will  of  God  is  that  the  nations  should  act  towards  one  ano'ther  as 
neighbors,  —  as  brothers.  [A  tumult  of  applause.]  And  you, 
Tuscans,  have  to-day  done  an  act  of  Christian  brotherhood.  Re 
ceiving  thus  foreign,  unknown  pilgrims,  who  go  to  defy  the  great 
est  powers  of  the  earth,  you  have  in  us  saluted  only  what  is  in  us 
of  spiritual  and  immortal,  —  our  faith  and  our  patriotism.  [Ap 
plause.]  We  thank  you  ;  and  we  will  now  go  into  the  church 
to  thank  God." 

"  All  the  people  then  followed  the  Poles  to  the  church  of  Santa 
Croce,  where  was  sung  the  Benedictus  Dominus,  and  amid  the 
memorials  of  the  greatness  of  Italy  collected  in  that  temple  was 
forged  more  strongly  the  chain  of  sympathy  and  of  union  between 
two  nations,  sisters  in  misfortune  and  in  glory." 

This  speech  and  its  reception,  literally  translated  from  the 
journal  of  the  day,  show  how  pleasant  it  is  on  great  occasions  to 
be  brought  in  contact  with  this  people,  so  full  of  natural  eloquence 
and  of  lively  sensibility  to  what  is  great  and  beautiful. 

It  is  a  glorious  time  too  for  the  exiles  who  return,  and  reap  even 
a  momentary  fruit  of  their  long  sorrows.  Mazzini  has  been  able 


320  THINGS    AND    THOUGHTS    IN   EUROPE. 

to  return  from  his  seventeen  years'  exile,  during  which  there  was 
no  hour,  night  or  day,  that  the  thought  of  Italy  was  banished  from 
his  heart,  —  no  possible  effort  that  he  did  not  make  to  achieve  the 
emancipation  of  his  people,  and  with  it  the  progress  of  mankind. 
He  returns,  like  Wordsworth's  great  man,  "  to  see  what  he  fore 
saw."  He  will  see  his  predictions  accomplishing  yet  for  a  long 
time,  for  Mazzini  has  a  mind  far  in  advance  of  his  times  in 
general,  and  his  nation  in  particular,  —  a  mind  that  will  be  best 
revered  and  understood  when  the  "  illustrious  Gioberti  "  shall  be 
remembered  as  a  pompous  verbose  charlatan,  with  just  talent 
enough  to  catch  the  echo  from  the  advancing  wave  of  his  day,  but 
without  any  true  sight  of  the  wants  of  man  at  this  epoch.  And 
yet  Mazzini  sees  not  all :  he  aims  at  political  emancipation  ;  but 
he  sees  not,  perhaps  would  deny,  the  bearing  of  some  events, 
which  even  now  begin  to  work  their  way.  Of  this,  more  anon  ; 
but  not  to-day,  nor  in  the  small  print  of  the  Tribune.  Suffice  it 
to  say,  I  allude  to  that  of  which  the  cry  of  Communism,  the  sys 
tems  of  Fourier,  &c.,  are  but  forerunners.  Mazzini  sees  much 
already,  —  at  Milan,  where  he  is,  he  has  probably  this  day  re 
ceived  the  intelligence  of  the  accomplishment  of  his  foresight,  im 
plied  in  his  letter  to  the  Pope,  which  angered  Italy  by  what  was 
thought  its  tone  of  irreverence  and  doubt,  some  six  months  since. 

To-day  is  the  7th  of  May,  for  I  had  thrown  aside  this  letter, 
begun  the  19th  of  April,  from  a  sense  that  there  was  something 
coming  that  would  supersede  what  was  then  to  say.  This  some 
thing  has  appeared  in  a  form  that  will  cause  deep  sadness  to  good 
hearts  everywhere.  Good  and  loving  hearts,  that  long  for  a 
human  form  which  they  can  revere,  will  be  unprepared  and  for 
a  time  must  suffer  much  from  the  final  dereliction  of  Pius  IX.  to 
the  cause  of  freedom,  progress,  and  of  the  war.  He  was  a  fair 
image,  and  men  went  nigh  to  idolize  it ;  this  they  can  do  no  more, 
though  they  may  be  able  to  find  excuse  for  his  feebleness,  love 
his  good  heart  no  less  than  before,  and  draw  instruction  from 
the  causes  that  have  produced  his  failure,  more  valuable  than  his 
success  would  have  been. 


WEAKNESS    OF    PIUS    IX.  321 

Pius  IX.,  no  one  can  doubt  who  has  looked  on  him,  has  a  good 
and  pure  heart ;  but  it  needed  also,  not  only  a  strong,  but  a  great 
mind, 

"  To  comprehend  his  trust,  and  to  the  same 
Keep  faithful,  with  a  singleness  of  aim." 

A  highly  esteemed  friend  in  the  United  States  wrote  to  express 
distaste  to  some  observations  in  a  letter  of  mine  to  the  Tribune 
on  first  seeing  the  Pontiff  a  year  ago,  observing,  "  To  say  that 
he  had  not  the  expression  of  great  intellect  was  uncalled  for" 
Alas  !  far  from  it ;  it  was  an  observation  that  rose  inevitably 
on  knowing  something  of  the  task  before  Pius  IX.,  and  the  hopes 
he  had  excited.  The  problem  he  had  to  solve  was  one  of  such 
difficulty,  that  only  one  of  those  minds,  the  rare  product  of  ages 
for  the  redemption  of  mankind,  could  be  equal  to  its  solution. 
The  question  that  inevitably  rose  on  seeing  him  was,  "  Is  he  such 
a  one  ?  "  The  answer  was  immediately  negative.  But  at  the  same 
time,  he  had  such  an  aspect  of  true  benevolence  and  piety,  that  a 
hope  arose  that  Heaven  would  act  through  him,  and  impel  him 
to  measures  wise  beyond  his  knowledge. 

This  hope  was  confirmed  by  the  calmness  he  showed  at  the 
time  of  the  conspiracy  of  July,  and  the  occupation  of  Ferrara  by 
the  Austrians.  Tales  were  told  of  simple  wisdom,  of  instinct, 
which  he  obeyed  in  opposition  to  the  counsels  of  all  his  Cardinals. 
Everything  went  on  well  for  a  time. 

But  tokens  of  indubitable  weakness  were  shown  by  the  Pope 
in  early  acts  of  the  winter,  in  the  removal  of  a  censor  at  the  sug 
gestion  of  others,  in  his  speech  to  the  Consistory,  in  his  answer  to 
the  first  address  of  the  Council.  In  these  he  declared  that,  when 
there  was  conflict  between  the  priest  and  the  man,  he  always 
meant  to  be  the  priest ;  and  that  he  preferred  the  wisdom  of  the 
past  to  that  of  the  future. 

Still,  times  went  on  bending  his  predeterminations  to  the  call 
of  the  moment.  He  acted  wiselier  than  he  intended ;  as,  for  in 
stance,  three  weeks  after  declaring  he  would  not  give  a  constitu 
tion  to  his  people,  he  gave  it,  —  a  sop  to  Cerberus,  indeed,  —  a  poor 
vamped-up  thing  that  will  by  and  by  have  to  give  place  to  some- 


322  THINGS    AND    THOUGHTS    IN   EUROPE. 

thing  more  legitimate,  but  which  served  its  purpose  at  the  time 
as  declaration  of  rights  for  the  people.  When  the  news  of  the 
revolution  of  Vienna  arrived,  the  Pope  himself  cried  Viva  Pio 
Nono  !  and  this  ebullition  of  truth  in  one  so  humble,  though  op 
posed  to  his  formal  declarations,  was  received  by  his  people  with 
that  immediate  assent  which  truth  commands. 

The  revolution  of  Lombardy  followed.  The  troops  of  the  line 
were  sent  thither;  the  volunteers  rushed  to  accompany  them. 
In  the  streets  of  Rome  was  read  the  proclamation  of  Charles 
Albert,  in  which  he  styles  himself  the  servant  of  Italy  and  of 
Pius  IX.  The  priests  preached  the  war,  and  justly,  as  a  cru 
sade  ;  the  Pope  blessed  their  banners.  Nobody  dreamed,  or  had 
cause  to  dream,  that  these  movements  had  not  his  full  sympathy ; 
and  his  name  was  in  every  form  invoked  as  the  chosen  instru 
ment  of  God  to  inspire  Italy  to  throw  off  the  oppressive  yoke  of 
the  foreigner,  and  recover  her  rights  in  the  civilized  world. 

At  the  same  time,  however,  the  Pope  was  seen  to  act  with 
great  blindness  in  the  affair  of  the  Jesuits.  The  other  states  of 
Italy  drove  them  out  by  main  force,  resolved  not  to  have  in  the 
midst  of  the  war  a  foe  and  spy  in  the  camp.  Rome  wished  to  do 
the  same,  but  the  Pope  rose  in  their  defence.  He  talked  as  if 
they  were  assailed  as  a  religious  body,  when  he  could  not  fail,  like 
everybody  else,  to  be  aware  that  they  were  dreaded  and  hated 
solely  as  agents  of  despotism.  He  demanded  that  they  should 
be  assailed  only  by  legal  means,  when  none  such  were  available. 
The  end  was  in  half-measures,  always  the  worst  possible.  He 
would  not  entirely  yield,  and  the  people  would  not  at  all.  The 
Order  was  ostensibly  dissolved  ;  but  great  part  of  the  Jesuits 
really  remain  here  in  disguise,  a  constant  source  of  irritation  and 
mischief,  which,  if  still  greater  difficulties  had  not  arisen,  would  of 
itself  have  created  enough.  Meanwhile,  in  the  earnestness  of  the 
clergy  about  the  pretended  loss  of  the  head  of  St.  Andrew,  in  the 
ceremonies  of  the  holy  week,  which  at  this  juncture  excited  no 
real  interest,  was  much  matter  for  thought  to  the  calm  observer 
as  to  the  restlessness  of  the  new  wine,  the  old  bottles  being  heard 
to  crack  on  every  side,  and  hour  by  hour. 


DISAPPOINTMENT    OP   THE    PEOPLE.  323 

Thus  affairs  went  on  from  day  to  day,  —  the  Pope  kissing  the 
foot  of  the  brazen  Jupiter  and  blessing  palms  of  straw  at  St. 
Peter's  ;  the  Circolo  Romano  erecting  itself  into  a  kind  of  Jaco 
bin  Club,  dictating  programmes  for  an  Italian  Diet-General,  and 
choosing  committees  to  provide  for  the  expenses  of  the  war  ;  the 
Civic  Guard  arresting  people  who  tried  to  make  mobs  as  if  famish 
ing,  and,  being  searched,  were  found  well  provided  both  with  arms 
and  money ;  the  ministry  at  their  wits'  end,  with  their  trunks 
packed  up  ready  to  be  off  at  a  moment's  warning,  —  when  the  re 
port,  it  is  not  yet  known  whether  true  or  false,  that  one  of  the 
Roman  Civic  Guard,  a  well-known  artist  engaged  in  the  war  of 
Lornbardy,  had  been  taken  and  hung  by  the  Austrians  as  a 
brigand,  roused  the  people  to  a  sense  of  the  position  of  their 
friends,  and  they  went  to  the  Pope  to  demand  that  he  should 
take  a  decisive  stand,  and  declare  war  against  the  Austrians. 

The  Pope  summoned,  a  consistory  ;  the  people  waited  anxiously, 
for  expressions  of  his  were  reported,  as  if  the  troops  ought  not  to 
have  thought  of  leaving  the  frontier,  while  every  man,  woman,  and 
child  in  Rome  knew,  and  every  letter  and  bulletin  declared,  that 
all  their  thought  was  to  render  active  aid  to  the  cause  of  Italian 
independence.  This  anxious  doubt,  however,  had  not  prepared 
at  all  for  the  excess  to  which  they  were  to  be  disappointed. 

The  speech  of  the  Pope  declared,  that  he  had  never  any  thought 
of  the  great  results  which  had  followed  his  actions ;  that  he  had 
only  intended  local  reforms,  such  as  had  previously  been  sug 
gested  by  the  potentates  of  Europe  ;  that  he  regretted  the  misuse 
which  had  been  made  of  his  name ;  and  wound  up  by  lamenting 
over  the  war,  —  dear  to  every  Italian  heart  as  the  best  and  holiest 
cause  in  which  for  ages  they  had  been  called  to  embark  their 
hopes,  —  as  if  it  was  something  offensive  to  the  spirit  of  religion, 
and  which  he  would  fain  see  hushed  up,  and  its  motives  smoothed 
out  and  ironed  over. 

A  momentary  stupefaction  followed  this  astounding  perform 
ance,  succeeded  by  a  passion  of  indignation,  in  which  the  words 
traitor  and  imbecile  were  associated  with  the  name  that  had  been 
so  dear  to  his  people.  Th.is  again  yielded  to  a  settled  grief:  they 


324  THINGS    AND    THOUGHTS    IN    EUROPE. 

felt  that  he  was  betrayed,  but  no  traitor ;  timid  and  weak,  but  still 
a  sovereign  whom  they  had  adored,  and  a  man  who  had  brought 
them  much  good,  which  could  not  be  quite  destroyed  by  his  wish 
ing  to  disown  it.  Even  of  this  fact  they  had  no  time  to  stop  and 
think  ;  the  necessity  was  too  imminent  of  obviating  the  worst  con 
sequences  of  this  ill ;  and  the  first  thought  was  to  prevent  the 
news  leaving  Rome,  to  dishearten  the  provinces  and  army,  before 
they  had  tried  to  persuade  the  Pontiff  to  wiser  resolves,  or,  if  this 
could  not  be,  to  supersede  his  power. 

I  cannot  repress  my  admiration  at  the  gentleness,  clearness,  and 
good  sense  with  which  the  Roman  people  acted  under  these  most 
difficult  circumstances.  It  was  astonishing  to  see  the  clear  under 
standing  which  animated  the  crowd  as  one  man,  and  the  decision 
with  which  they  acted  to  effect  their  purpose.  Wonderfully  has 
this  people  been  developed  within  a  year ! 

The  Pope,  besieged  by  deputations,  who  mildly  but  firmly 
showed  him  that,  if  he  persisted,  the  temporal  power  must  be 
placed  in  other  hands,  his  ears  filled  with  reports  of  Cardinals, 
"  such  venerable  persons,"  as  he  pathetically  styles  them,  would 
not  yield  in  spirit,  though  compelled  to  in  act.  After  two  days' 
struggle,  he  was  obliged  to  place  the  power  in  the  hands  of  the 
persons  most  opposed  to  him,  and  nominally  acquiesce  in  their 
proceedings,  while  in  his  second  proclamation,  very  touching  from 
the  sweetness  of  its  tone,  he  shows  a  fixed  misunderstanding  of  the 
cause  at  issue,  which  leaves  no  hope  of  his  ever  again  being  more 
than  a  name  or  an  effigy  in  their  affairs. 

His  people  were  much  affected,  and  entirely  laid  aside  their 
anger,  but  they  would  not  be  blinded  as  to  the  truth.  While 
gladly  returning  to  their  accustomed  habits  of  affectionate  homage 
toward  the  Pontiff,  their  unanimous  sense  and  resolve  is  thus  ex 
pressed  in  an  able  pamphlet  of  the  day,  such  as  in  every  respect 
would  have  been  deemed  impossible  to  the  Rome  of  1847  :  — 

"  From  the  last  allocution  of  Pius  result  two  facts  of  extreme 
gravity  ;  —  the  entire  separation  between  the  spiritual  and  tem 
poral  power,  and  tthe  express  refusal  of  the  Pontiff  to  be  chief  of 
an  Italian  Republic.  But  far  from  drawing  hence  reason  for  dis- 


RESULTS  OF  THE  POPE'S  DEFECTION.       325 

couragement  and  grief,  who  looks  well  at  the  destiny  of  Italy  may 
bless  Providence,  which  breaks  or  changes  the  instrument  when 
the  work  is  completed,  and  by  secret  and  inscrutable  ways  conducts 
us  to  the  fulfilment  of  our  desires  and  of  our  hopes. 

"  If  Pius  IX.  refuses,  the  Italian  people  does  not  therefore  draw 
back.  Nothing  remains  to  the  free  people  of  Italy,  except  to 
unite  in  one  constitutional  kingdom,  founded  on  the  largest  basis  ; 
and  if  the  chief  who,  by  our  assemblies,  shall  be  called  to  the 
highest  honor,  either  declines  or  does  not  answer  worthily,  the 
people  will  take  care  of  itself. 

"  Italians  !  down  with  all  emblems  of  private  and  partial  inter 
ests.  Let  us  unite  under  one  single  banner,  the  tricolor,  and  if  he 
who  has  carried  it  bravely  thus  far  lets  it  fall  from  his  hand,  we 
will  take  it  one  from  the  other,  twenty-four  millions  of  us,  and,  till 
the  last  of  us  shall  have  perished  under  the  banner  of  our  redemp 
tion,  the  stranger  shall  not  return  into  Italy. 

"  Viva  Italy  !  viva  the  Italian  people  !  "  * 

These  events  make  indeed  a  crisis.  The  work  begun  by  Na 
poleon  is  finished.  There  will  never  more  be  really  a  Pope,  but 
only  the  effigy  or  simulacrum  of  one. 

The  loss  of  Pius  IX.  is  for  the  moment  a  great  one.  His 
name  had  real  moral  weight,  —  was  a  trumpet  appeal  to  senti 
ment.  It  is  not  the  same  with  any  man  that  is  left.  There  is 
not  one  that  can  be  truly  a  leader  in  the  Roman  dominion,  not 
one  who  has  even  great  intellectual  weight. 

The  responsibility  of  events  now  lies  wholly  with  the  people, 
and  that  wave  of  thought  which  has  begun  to  pervade  them. 
Sovereigns  and  statesmen  will  go  where  they  are  carried  ;  it  is 
probable  power  will  be  changed  continually  from  hand  to  hand, 
and  government  become,  to  all  intents  and  purposes,  representative. 
Italy  needs  now  quite  to  throw  aside  her  stupid  king  of  Naples, 
who  hangs  like  a  dead  weight  on  her  movements.  The  king  of 


*  Close  of  "  A  Comment  by  Pio  Angelo  Fierortino  on  the  Allocution  of  Pius 
IX.  spoken  in  the  Secret  Consistory  of  29th  April,  1848,"  dated  Italy,  30th  April, 
1st  year  of  the  Redemption  of  Italy. 

28 


326  THINGS    AND    THOUGHTS    IN   EUROPE. 

Sardinia  and  the  Grand  Duke  of  Tuscany  will  be  trusted  while 
they  keep  their  present  course;  but  who  can  feel  sure  of  any 
sovereign,  now  that  Louis  Philippe  has  shown  himself  so  mud 
and  Pius  IX.  so  blind  ?  It  seems  as  if  fate  was  at  work  to  be 
wilder  and  cast  down  the  dignities  of  the  world  and  democratize 
society  at  a  blow. 

In  Rome  there  is  now  no  anchor  except  the  good  sense  of  the 
people.  It  seems  impossible  that  collision  should  not  arise  be 
tween  him  who  retains  the  name  but  not  the  place  of  sovereign, 
and  the  provisional  government  which  calls  itself  a  ministry.  The 
Count  Mamiani,  its  new  head,  is  a  man  of  reputation  as  a  writer, 
but  untried  as  yet  as  a  leader  or  a  statesman.  Should  agitations 
arise,  the  Pope  can  no  longer  calm  them  by  one  of  his  fatherly 
looks. 

All  lies  in  the  future ;  and  our  best  hope  must  be  that  the 
Power  which  has  begun  so  great  a  work  will  find  due  means  to 
end  it,  and  make  the  year  1850  a  year  of  true  jubilee  to  Italy  ;  a 
year  not  merely  of  pomps  and  tributes,  but  of  recognized  rights 
and  intelligent  joys ;  a  year  of  real  peace,  —  peace,  founded  not 
on  compromise  and  the  lying  etiquettes  of  diplomacy,  but  on 
truth  and  justice. 

Then  this  sad  disappointment  in  Pius  IX.  may  be  forgotten,  or, 
while  all  that  was  lovely  and  generous  in  his  life  is  prized  and 
reverenced,  deep  instruction  may  be  drawn  from  his  errors  as  to 
the  inevitable  dangers  of  a  priestly  or  a  princely  environment, 
and  a  higher  knowledge  may  elevate  a  nobler  commonwealth  than 
the  world  has  yet  known. 

Hoping  this  era,  I  remain  at  present  here.  Should  my  hopes 
be  dashed  to  the  ground,  it  will  not  change  my  faith,  but  the 
struggle  for  its  manifestation  is  to  me  of  vital  interest.  My 
friends  write  to  urge  my  return  ;  they  talk  of  our  country  as  the 
land  of  the  future.  It  is  so,  but  that  spirit  which  made  it  all  it  is 
of  value  in  my  eyes,  which  gave  all  of  hope  with  which  I  can 
sympathize  for  that  future,  is  more  alive  here  at  present  than  in 
America.  My  country  is  at  present  spoiled  by  prosperity,  stupid 
with  the  lust  of  gain,  soiled  by  crime  in  its  willing  perpetuation  of 


THE   TRUE   AMERICA.  327 

slavery,  shamed  by  an  unjust  war,  noble  sentiment  much  forgotten 
even  by  individuals,  the  aims  of  politicians  selfish  or  petty,  the 
literature  frivolous  and  venal.  In  Europe,  amid  the  teachings  of 
adversity,  a  nobler  spirit  is  struggling,  —  a  spirit  which  cheers 
and  animates  mine.  I  hear  earnest  words  of  pure  faith  and  love. 
I  see  deeds  of  brotherhood.  This  is  what  makes  my  America.  I 
do  not  deeply  distrust'  my  country.  She  is  not  dead,  but  in  my 
time  she  sleepeth,  and  the  spirit  of  our  fathers  flames  no  more, 
but  lies  hid  beneath  the  ashes.  It  will  not  be  so  long ;  bodies 
cannot  live  when  the  soul  gets  too  overgrown  with  gluttony  and 
falsehood.  But  it  is  not  the  making  a  President  out  of  the 
Mexican  war  that  would  make  me  wish  to  come  back.  Here 
things  are  before  my  eyes  worth  recording,  and,  if  I  cannot  help 
this  work,  I  would  gladly  be  its  historian. 

May  13. 

Returning  from  a  little  tour  in  the  Alban  Mount,  where  every 
thing  looks  so  glorious  this  glorious  spring,  I  find  a  temporary 
quiet.  The  Pope's  brothers  have  come  to  sympathize  with  him  ; 
the  crowd  sighs  over  what  he  has  done,  presents  him  with  great 
bouquets  of  flowers,  and  reads  anxiously  the  news  from  the  north 
and  the  proclamations  of  the  new  ministry.  Meanwhile  the 
nightingales  sing ;  every  tree  and  plant  is  in  flower,  and  the 
sun  and  moon  shine  as  if  paradise  were  already  re-established  on 
earth.  I  go  to  one  of  the  villas  to  dream  it  is  so,  beneath  the 
pale  light  of  the  stars. 


LETTEE    XXV. 

Review  of  the  Course  of  Pius  IX.  —  Mamiani.  —  The  People's  disappointed 
Hopes.  —  The  Monuments  in  Milan,  Naples,  etc.  —  The  King  of  Naples  and 
his  Troops.  —  Calamities  of  the  War.  —  The  Italian  People.  —  Charles  Albert. 
—  Deductions.  —  Summer  among  the  Mountains  of  Italy. 

Rome,  December  2,  1848. 

I  have  not  written  for  six  months,  and  within  that  time  what 
changes  have  taken  place  on  this  side  "  the  great  water,"  —  changes 
of  how  great  dramatic  interest  historically,  —  of  bearing  infinitely 
important  ideally !  Easy  is  the  descent  in  ill. 

I  wrote  last  when  Pius  IX.  had  taken  the  first  stride  on  the 
downward  road.  He  had  proclaimed  himself  the  foe  of  further 
reform  measures,  when  he  implied  that  Italian  independence  was 
not  important  in  his  eyes,  when  he  abandoned  the  crowd  of  heroic 
youth  who  had  gone  to  the  field  with  his  benediction,  to  some 
of  whom  his  own  hand  had  given  crosses.  All  the  Popes,  his 
predecessors,  had  meddled  with,  most  frequently  instigated,  war ; 
now  came  one  who  must  carry  out,  literally,  the  doctrines  of  the 
Prince  of  Peace,  when  the  war  was  not  for  wrong,  or  the  aggran 
dizement  of  individuals,  but  to  redeem  national,  to  redeem  human, 
rights  from  the  grasp  of  foreign  oppression. 

I  said  some  cried  "  traitor,"  some  "  imbecile,"  some  wept,  but 
in  the  minds  of  all,  I  believe,  at  that  time,  grief  was  predomi 
nant.  They  could  no  longer  depend  on  him  they  had  thought 
their  best  friend.  They  had  lost  their  father. 

Meanwhile  his  people  would  not  submit  to  the  inaction  he  urged. 
They  saw  it  was  not  only  ruinous  to  themselves,  but  base  and 
treacherous  to  the  rest  of  Italy.  They  said  to  the  Pope,  "  This 


REVIEW   OF    THE    COURSE    OF    PIUS    IX.  329 

cannot  be ;  you  must  follow  up  the  pledges  you  have  given,  or, 
if  you  will  not  act  to  redeem  them,  you  must  have  a  ministry  that 
will."  The  Pope,  after  he  had  once  declared  to  the  contrary, 
ought  to  have  persisted.  He  should  have  said,  "  I  cannot  thus 
belie  myself,  I  cannot  put  my  name  to  acts  I  have  just  declared 
to  be  against  my  conscience." 

The  ministers  of  the  people  ought  to  have  seen  that  the  posi 
tion  they  assumed  was  utterly  untenable ;  that  they  could  not 
advance  with  an  enemy  in  the  background  cutting  off  all  supplies. 
But  some  patriotism  and  some  vanity  exhilarated  them,  and,  the 
Pope  having  weakly  yielded,  they  unwisely  began  their  impos 
sible  task.  Mamiani,  their  chief,  I  esteem  a  man,  under  all  cir 
cumstances,  unequal  to  such  a  position,  —  a  man  of  rhetoric 
merely.  But  no  man  could  have  acted,  unless  the  Pope  had 
resigned  his  temporal  power,  the  Cardinals  been  put  under 
sufficient  check,  and  the  Jesuits  and  emissaries  of  Austria  driven 
from  their  lurking-places. 

A  sad  scene  began.  The  Pope, —  shut  up  more  and  more  in 
his  palace,  the  crowd  of  selfish  and  insidious  advisers  darkening 
round,  enslaved  by  a  confessor,  —  he  who  might  have  been  the 
liberator  of  suffering  Europe  permitted  the  most  infamous  treach 
eries  to  be  practised  in  his  name.  Private  letters  were  written 
to  the  foreign  powers,  denying  the  acts  he  outwardly  sanctioned  ; 
the  hopes  of  the  people  were  evaded  or  dallied  with  ;  the  Chamber 
of  Deputies  permitted  to  talk  and  pass  measures  which  they 
never  could  get  funds  to  put  into  execution  ;  legions  to  form  and 
manoeuvre,  but  never  to  have  the  arms  and  clothing  they  needed. 
Again  and  again  the  people  went  to  the  Pope  for  satisfaction. 
They  got  only  —  benediction. 

Thus  plotted  and  thus  worked  the  scarlet  men  of  sin,  playing 
the  hopes  of  Italy  off  and  on,  while  their  hope  was  of  the  miser 
able  defeat  consummated  by  a  still  worse  traitor  at  Milan  on  the 
6th  of  August.  But,  indeed,  what  could  be  expected  from  the 
"  Sword  of  Pius  IX.,"  when  Pius  IX.  himself  had  thus  failed 
.in  his  high  vocation.  The  king  of  Naples  bombarded  his  city, 
and  set  on  the  Lazzaroni  to  rob  and  murder  t^e  subjects  he  had 
28* 


330  THINGS    AND    THOUGHTS    IN    EUROPE. 

deluded  by  his  pretended  gift  of  the  Constitution.  Pius  pro 
claimed  that  he  longed  to  embrace  all  the  princes  of  Italy.  He 
talked  of  peace,  when  all  knew  for  a  great  part  of  the  Italians 
there  was  no  longer  hope  of  peace,  except  in  the  sepulchre,  or 
freedom. 

The  taunting  manifestos  of  Welden  are  a  sufficient  comment 
on  the  conduct  of  the  Pope.  "  As  the  government  of  his  Holiness 
is  too  weak  to  control  his  subjects,"  —  "  As,  singularly  enough,  a 
great  number  of  Romans  are  found  fighting  against  us,  contrary 
to  the  expressed  will  of  their  prince,"  —  such  were  the  excuses 
for  invasions  of  the  Pontifical  dominions,  and  the  robbery  and  in 
sult  by  which  they  were  accompanied.  Such  invasions,  it  was 
said,  made  his  Holiness  very  indignant ;  he  remonstrated  against 
these  ;  but  we  find  no  word  of  remonstrance  against  the  tyranny 
of  the  king  of  Naples,  —  no  word  of  sympathy  for  the  victims  of 
Lombardy,  the  sufferings  of  Verona,  Vicenza,  Padua,  Mantua, 
Venice. 

In  the  affairs  of  Europe  there  are  continued  signs  of  the  plan 
of  the  retrograde  party  to  effect  similar  demonstrations  in  different 
places  at  the  same  hour.  The  loth  of  May  was  one  of  these 
marked  days.  On  that  day  the  king  of  Naples  made  use  of  the 
insurrection  he  had  contrived  to  excite,  to  massacre  his  people, 
and  find  an  excuse  for  recalling  his  troops  from  Lombardy.  The 
same  day  a  similar  crisis  was  hoped  in  Rome  from  the  declara 
tions  of  the  Pope,  but  that  did  not  work  at  the  moment  exactly 
as  the  foes  of  enfranchisement  hoped. 

However,  the  wounds  were  cruel  enough.  The  Roman  volun 
teers  received  the  astounding  news  that  they  were  not  to  expect 
protection  or  countenance  from  their  prince  ;  all  the  army  stood 
aghast,  that  they  were  no  longer  to  fight  in  the  name  of  Pio.  It 
had  been  so  dear,  so  sweet,  to  love  and  really  reverence  the  head 
of  their  Church,  so  inspiring  to  find  their  religion  for  once  in 
accordance  with  the  aspirations  of  the  soul !  They  were  to  be 
deprived,  too,  of  the  aid  of  the  disciplined  Neapolitan  troops  and 
their  artillery,  on  which  they  had  counted.  How  cunningly  all  this 
was  contrived  to  cause  dissension  and  dismay  may  easily  be  seen. 


NOBLENESS    VERSUS    SELFISHNESS.  331 

The  Neapolitan  General  Pepe  nobly  refused  to  obey,  and  called 
on  the  troops  to  remain  with  him.  They  wavered ;  but  they  are 
a  pampered  army,  personally  much  attached  to  the  king,  who 
pays  them  well  and  indulges  them  at  the  expense  of  his  people, 
that  they  may  be  his  support  against  that  people  when  in  a  throe 
of  nature  it  rises  and  striven  for  its  rights.  For  the  same  reason, 
the  sentiment  of  patriotism  was  little  diffused  among  them  in  com 
parison  with  the  other  troops.  And  the  alternative  presented  was 
one  in  which  it  required  a  very  clear  sense  of  higher  duty  to  act 
against  habit.  Generally,  after  wavering  awhile,  they  obeyed 
and  returned.  The  Roman  States,  which  had  received  them 
with  so  many  testimonials  of  affection  and  honor,  on  their  retreat 
were  not  slack  to  show  a  correspondent  aversion  and  contempt. 
The  towns  would  not  suffer  their  passage ;  the  hamlets  were  un 
willing  to  serve  them  even  with  fire  and  water.  They  were  filled 
at  once  with  shame  and  rage ;  one  officer  killed  himself,  unable  to 
bear  it ;  in  the  unreflecting  minds  of  the  soldiers,  hate  sprung  up 
for  the  rest  of  Italy,  and  especially  Rome,  which  will  make  them 
admirable  tools  of  tyranny  in  case  of  civil  war. 

This  was  the  first  great  calamity  of  the .  war.  But  apart  from 
the  treachery  of  the  king  of  Naples  and  the  dereliction  of  the 
Pope,  it  was  impossible  it  should  end  thoroughly  well.  The  peo 
ple  were  in  earnest,  and  have  shown  themselves  so ;  brave,  and 
able  to  bear  privation.  No  one  should  dare,  after  the  proofs  of 
the  summer,  to  reiterate  the  taunt,  so  unfriendly  frequent  on  for 
eign  lips  at  the  beginning  of  the  contest,  that  the  Italian  can  boast, 
shout,  and  fling  garlands,  but  not  act.  The  Italian  always  showed 
himself  noble  and  brave,  even  in  foreign  service,  and  is  doubly 
so  in  the  cause  of  his  country.  But  efficient  heads  were  wanting. 
The  princes  were  not  in  earnest ;  they  were  looking  at  expediency. 
The  Grand  Duke,  timid  and  prudent,  wanted  to  do  what  was  safest 
for  Tuscany ;  his  ministry,  "  Moderate  "  and  prudent,  would  have 
liked  to  win  a  great  prize  at  small  risk.  They  went  no  farther 
than  the  people  pulled  them.  The  king  of  Sardinia  had  taken 
the  first  bold  step,  and  the  idea  that  treachery  on  his  part  was 
premeditated  cannot  be  sustained ;  it  arises  from  the  extraordi- 


332  THINGS    AND    THOUGHTS    IN    EUROPE. 

nary  aspect  of  his  measures,  and  the  knowledge  that  he  is  not  in 
capable  of  treachery,  as  he  proved  in  early  youth.  But  now  it 
was  only  his  selfishness  that  worked  to  the  same  results.  He 
fought  and  planned,  not  for  Italy,  but  the  house  of  Savoy,  which 
his  Balbis  and  Giobertis  had  so  long  been  prophesying  was  to 
reign  supreme  in  the  new  great  era  of  Italy.  These  prophecies 
he  more  than  half  believed,  because  they  chimed  with  his  ambi 
tious  wishes  ;  but  he  had  not  soul  enough  to  realize  them  ;  he 
trusted  only  in  his  disciplined  troops  ;  he  had  not  nobleness  enough 
to  believe  he  might  rely  at  all  on  the  sentiment  of  the  people. 
For  his  troops  he  dared  not  have  good  generals  ;  conscious  of 
meanness  and  timidity,  he  shrank  from  the  approach  of  able  and 
earnest  men  ;  he  was  inly  afraid  they  would,  in  helping  Italy,  take 
her  and  themselves  out  of  his  guardianship.  Antonini  was  in 
sulted,  Garibaldi  rejected  ;  other  experienced  leaders,  who  had 
rushed  to  Italy  at  the  first  trumpet-sound,  could  never  get  em 
ployment  from  him.  As  to  his  generalship,  it  was  entirely  inad 
equate,  even  if  he  had  made  use  of  the  first  favorable  moments. 
But  his  first  thought  was  not  to  strike  a  blow  at  the  Austrians 
before  they  recovered  from  the  discomfiture  of  Milan,  but  to  use 
the  panic  and  need  of  his  assistance  to  induce  Lombardy  and  Yen- 
ice  to  annex  themselves  to  his  kingdom.  He  did  not  even  wish 
seriously  to  get  the  better  till  this  was  done,  and  when  this  was 
done,  it  was  too  late.  The  Austrian  army  was  recruited,  the 
generals  had  recovered  their  spirits,  and  were  burning  to  retrieve 
find  avenge  their  past  defeat.  The  conduct  of  Charles  Albert  had 
been  shamefully  evasive  in  the  first  months.  The  account  given 
by  Franzini,  when  challenged  in  the  Chamber  of  Deputies  at 
Turin,  might  be  summed  up  thus  :  "  Why,  gentlemen,  what  would 
you  have  ?  Every  one  knows  that  the  army  is  in  excellent  con 
dition,  and  eager  for  action.  They  are  often  reviewed,  hear 
speeches,  and  sometimes  get  medals.  We  take  places  always,  if 
it  is  not  difficult.  I  myself  was  present  once  when  the  troops  ad 
vanced  ;  our  men  behaved  gallantly,  and  had  the  advantage  in 
the  first  skirmish ;  but  afterward  the  enemy  pointed  on  us  artillery 
from  the  heights,  and,  naturally,  we  retired.  But  as  to  supposing 


CHARLES    ALBERT.  333 

that  his  Majesty  Charles  Albert  is  indifferent  to  the  success  of 
Italy  in  the  war,  that  is  absurd.  He  is  'the  Sword  of  Italy';  he  is 
the  most  magnanimous  of  princes  ;  he  is  seriously  occupied  about 
the  war ;  many  a  day  I  have  been  called  into  his  tent  to  talk  it 
over,  before  he  was  up  in  the  morning ! " 

Sad  was  it  that  the  heroic  Milan,  the  heroic  Venice,  the  heroic 
Sicily,  should  lean  on  such  a  reed  as  this,  and  by  hurried  acts, 
equally  unworthy  as  unwise,  sully  the  glory  of  their  shields. 
Some  names,  indeed,  stand  out  quite  free  from  this  blame.  Maz- 
zini,  who  kept  up  a  combat  against  folly  and  cowardice,  day  by 
day  and  hour  by  hour,  with  almost  supernatural  strength,  warned 
the  people  constantly  of  the  evils  which  their  advisers  were  draw 
ing  upon  them.  He  was  heard  then  only  by  a  few,  but  in  this 
"  Italia  del  Popolo  "  may  be  found  many  prophecies  exactly  ful 
filled,  as  those  of  "  the  golden-haired  love  of  Phoebus  "  during 
the  struggles  of  Ilium.  He  himself,  in  the  last  sad  days  of  Milan, 
compared  his  lot  to  that  of  Cassandra.  At  all  events,  his  hands 
are  pure  from  that  ill.  What  could  be  done  to  arouse  Lom- 
bardy  he  did,  but  the  "  Moderate  "  party  unable  to  wean  them 
selves  from  old  habits,  the  pupils  of  the  wordy  Gioberti  thought 
there  could  be  no  safety  unless  under  the  mantle  of  a  prince. 
They  did  not  foresee  that  he  would  run  away,  and  throw  that 
mantle  on  the  ground. 

Tommaso  and  Manin  also  were  clear  in  their  aversion  to  these 
measures  ;  and  with  them,  as  with  all  who  were  resolute  in  prin 
ciple  at  that  time,  a  great  influence  has  followed. 

It  is  said  Charles  Albert  feels  bitterly  the  imputations  on  his 
courage,  and  says  they  are  most  ungrateful,  since  he  has  exposed 
the  lives  of  himself  and  his  sons  in  the  combat,  Indeed,  there 
ought  to  be  made  a  distinction  between  personal  and  mental  cour 
age.  The  former  Charles  Albert  may  possess,  may  have  too  much 
of  what  this  still  aristocratic  world  calls  "  the  feelings  of  a  gentle 
man  "  to  shun  exposing  himself  to  a  chance  shot  now  and  then. 
An  entire  want  of  mental  courage  he  has  shown.  The  battle,  deci 
sive  against  him,  was  made  so  by  his  giving  up  the  moment  fortune 
turned  against  him.  It  is  shameful  to  hear  so  many  say  this  re- 


334  THINGS   AND    THOUGHTS    IN    EUROPE. 

suit  was  inevitable,  just  because  the  material  advantages  were  in 
favor  of  the  Austrians.  Pray,  was  never  a  battle  won  against 
material  odds  ?  It  is  precisely  such  that  a  good  leader,  a  noble 
man,  may  expect  to  win.  Were  the  Austrians  driven  out  of 
Milan  because  the  Milanese  had  that  advantage  ?  The  Austrians 
would  again  have  suffered  repulse  from  them,  but  for  the  baseness 
of  this  man,  on  whom  they  had  been  cajoled  into  relying,  —  a  base 
ness  that  deserves  the  pillory ;  and  on  a  pillory  will  the  "  Mag 
nanimous,"  as  he  was  meanly  called  in  face  of  the  crimes  of  his 
youth  and  the  timid  selfishness  of  his  middle  age,  stand  in  the 
sight  of  posterity.  He  made  use  of  his  power  only  to  betray 
Milan  ;  he  took  from  the  citizens  all  means  of  defence,  and  then 
gave  them  up  to  the  spoiler ;  he  promised  to  defend  them  "  to  the 
last  drop  of  his  blood,"  and  sold  them  the  next  minute  ;  even 
the  paltry  terms  he  made,  he  has  not  seen  maintained.  Had  the 
people  slain  him  in  their  rage,  he  well  deserved  it  at  their  hands ; 
and  all  his  conduct  since  show  how  righteous  would  have  been 
that  sudden  verdict  of  passion. 

Of  all  this  great  drama  I  have  much  to  write,  but  elsewhere,  in 
a  more  full  form,  and  where  I  can  duly  sketch  the  portraits  of 
actors  little  known  in  America.  The  materials  are  over-rich. 
I  have  bought  my  right  in  them  by  much  sympathetic  suffering; 
yet,  amid  the  blood  and  tears  of  Italy,  't  is  joy  to  see  some  glori 
ous  new  births.  The  Italians  are  getting  cured  of  mean  adulation 
and  hasty  boasts  ;  they  are  learning  to  prize  and  seek  realities ; 
the  effigies  of  straw  are  getting  knocked  down,  and  living,  grow 
ing  men  take  their  places.  Italy  is  being  educated  for  the  future, 
her  leaders  are  learning  that  the  time  is  past  for  trust  in  princes 
and  precedents,  —  that  there  is  no  hope  except  in  truth  and  God  ; 
her  lower  people  are  learning  to  shout  less  and  think  more. 

Though  my  thoughts  have  been  much  with  the  public  in  this 
struggle  for  life,  I  have  been  away  from  it  during  the  summer 
months,  in  the  quiet  valleys,  on  the  lonely  mountains.  There, 
personally  undisturbed,  I  have  seen  the  glorious  Italian  summer 
wax  and  wane,  —  the  summer  of  Southern  Italy,  which  I  did  not 
see  last  year.  On  the  mountains  it  was  not  too  hot  for  me,  and  I 


SUMMER   AMONG    THE    MOUNTAINS.  835 

enjoyed  the  great  luxuriance  of  vegetation.  I  had  the  advantage 
of  having  visited  the  scene  of  the  war  minutely  last  summer,  so 
that,  in  mind,  I  could  follow  every  step  of  the  campaign,  while 
around  me  were  the  glorious  relics  of  old  times,  —  the  crumbling 
theatre  or  temple  of  the  Roman  day,  the  bird's-nest  village  of  the 
Middle  Ages,  on  whose  purple  height  shone  the  sun  and  moon 
of  Italy  in  changeless  lustre.  It  was  great  pleasure  to  me  to 
watch  the  gradual  growth  and  change  of  the  seasons,  so  differ 
ent  from  ours.  Last  year  I  had  not  leisure  for  this  quiet  ac 
quaintance.  Now  I  saw  the  fields  first  dressed  in  their  carpets  of 
green,  enamelled  richly  with  the  red  poppy  and  blue  corn-flower, 
—  in  that  sunshine  how  resplendent !  Then  swelled  the  fig,  the 
grape,  the  olive,  the  almond ;  and  my  food  was  of  these  products 
of  this  rich  clime.  For  near  three  months  I  had  grapes  every 
day  ;  the  last  four  weeks,  enough  daily  for  two  persons  for  a  cent ! 
Exquisite  salad  for  two  persons'  dinner  and  supper  cost  but  a 
cent,  and  all  other  products  of  the  region  were  in  the  same  pro 
portion.  One  who  keeps  still  in  Italy,  and  lives  as  the  people  do, 
may  really  have  much  simple  luxury  for  very  little  money; 
though  both  travel,  and,  to  the  inexperienced  foreigner,  life  in 
the  cities,  are  expensive. 


LETTER    XXVI. 

Thoughts  of  the  Italian  Race,  the  Seasons,  and  Rome.  —  Changes.  —  The  Death 
of  the  Minister  Rossi.  —  The  Church  of  San  Luigi  dei  Francesi.  —  St.  Cecilia 
and  the  Domenichino  Chapel.  —  The  Piazza  del  Popolo.  —  The  Troops :  Pre 
paratory  Movements  toward  the  Quirinal.  —  The  Demonstration  on  the  Palace. 

—  The  Church:  its  Position  and  Aims.  —  The  Pope's  Flight,  &c.  —  Social  Life. 

—  Don  Tirlone.  —  The  New  Year. 

Rome,  December  2,  1848. 

NOT  till  I  saw  the  snow  on  the  mountains  grow  rosy  in  the 
autumn  sunset  did  I  turn  my  steps  again  toward  Rome.  I  was 
very  ready  to  return.  After  three  or  four  years  of  constant  ex 
citement,  this  six  months  of  seclusion  had  been  welcome  ;  but  now 
I  felt  the  need  of  meeting  other  eyes  beside  those,  so  bright  and  so 
shallow,  of  the  Italian  peasant.  Indeed,  I  left  what  was  most  pre 
cious,  but  which  I  could  not  take  with  me  ;  *  still  it  was  a  compen 
sation  that  I  was  again  to  see  Rome,  —  Rome,  that  almost  killed 
me  with  her  cold  breath  of  last  winter,  yet  still  with  that  cold 
breath  whispered  a  tale  of  import  so  divine.  Rome  so  beautiful,  so 
great !  her  presence  stupefies,  and  one  has  to  withdraw  to  prize 
the  treasures  she  has  given.  City  of  the  soul !  yes,  it  is  that ; 
the  very  dust  magnetizes  you,  and  thousand  spells  have  been 
chaining  you  in  every  careless,  every  murmuring  moment.  Yes ! 
Rome,  however  seen,  thou  must  be  still  adored  ;  and  every  hour 
of  absence  or  presence  must  deepen  love  with  one  who  has  known 
what  it  is  to  repose  in  thy  arms. 

Repose !  for  whatever  be  the  revolutions,  tumults,  panics, 
hopes,  of  the  present  day,  still  the  temper  of  life  here  is  repose. 
The  great  past  enfolds  us,  and  the  emotions  of  the  moment  cannot 

*  Her  child,  who  was  born  in  Rieti,  September  5, 1848,  and  was  necessarily  left 
in  that  town  during  the  difficulties  and  siege  of  Rome.  —  ED. 


AFFAIRS    AT    ROME.  337 

here  greatly  disturb  that  impression.  From  the  wild  shout  and 
throng  of  the  streets  the  setting  sun  recalls  us  as  it  rests  on 
a  hundred  domes  and  temples,  —  rests  on  the  Campagna,  whose 
grass  is  rooted  in  departed  human  greatness.  Burial-place  so 
full  of  spirit  that  death  itself  seems  no  longer  cold !  O  let  me 
rest  here,  too !  Rest  here  seems  possible ;  meseems  myriad 
lives  still  linger  here,  awaiting  some  one  great  summons. 

The  rivers  had  burst  their  bounds,  and  beneath  the  moon  the 
fields  round  Rome  lay  one  sheet  of  silver.  Entering  the  gate 
while  the  baggage  was  under  examination,  I  walked  to  the  en 
trance  of  a  villa.  Far  stretched  its  overarching  shrubberies,  its 
deep  green  bowers  ;  two  statues,  with  foot  advanced  and  uplifted 
finger,  seemed  to  greet  me ;  it  was  near  the  scene  of  great  revels, 
great  splendors  in  the  old  time ;  there  lay  the  gardens  of  Sallust, 
where  were  combined  palace,  theatre,  library,  bath,  and  villa. 
Strange  things  have  happened  since,  the  most  attractive  part  of 
wnich  —  the  secret  heart  —  lies  buried  or  has  fled  to  animate 
other  forms  ;  for  of  that  part  historians  have  rarely  given  a  hint 
more  than  they  do  now  of  the  truest  life  of  our  day,  which  refuses 
to  be  embodied  by  the  pen,  craving  forms  more  mutable,  more 
eloquent  than  the  pen  can  give. 

I  found  Rome  empty  of  foreigners.  Most  of  the  English  have 
fled  in  affright,  —  the  Germans  and  French  are  wanted  at  home,  — 
the  Czar  has  recalled  many  of  his  younger  subjects  ;  he  does  not 
like  the  schooling  they  get  here.  That  large  part  of  the  popula 
tion  which  lives  by  the  visits  of  foreigners  was  suffering  very 
much,  —  trade,  industry,  for  every  reason,  stagnant.  The  people 
were  every  moment  becoming  more  exasperated  by  the  impu 
dent  measures  of  the  Minister  Rossi,  and  their  mortification  at 
seeing  Rome  represented  and  betrayed  by  a  foreigner.  And  what 
foreigner  ?  A  pupil  of  Guizot  and  Louis  Philippe.  The  news 
of  the  bombardment  and  storm  of  Vienna  had  just  reached  Rome. 
Zucchi,  the  Minister  of  War,  at  once  left  the  city  to  put  down 
over-free  manifestations  in  the  provinces,  and  impede  the  entrance 
of  the  troops  of  the  patriot  chief,  Garibaldi,  into  Bologna.  From 
the  provinces  came  soldiery,  called  by  Rossi  to  keep  order  at  the 
29 


338  THINGS    AND    THOUGHTS    IN    EUROl'K. 

opening  of  the  Chamber  of  Deputies.  He  reviewed  them  in  the 
face  of  the  Civic  Guard ;  the  press  began  to  be  restrained ;  men 
were  arbitrarily  seized  and  sent  out  of  the  kingdom.  The  public 
indignation  rose  to  its  height ;  the  cup  overflowed. 

The  loth  was  a  beautiful  day,  and  I  had  gone  out  for  a  long 
walk.  Returning  at  night,  the  old  Padrona  met  me  with  her 
usual  smile  a  little  clouded.  "  Do  you  know,"  said  she,  "  that  the 
Minister  Rossi  has  been  killed  ?  "  No  Roman  said  murdered. 

"Killed?" 

«•  Yes,  —  with  a  thrust  in  the  back.  A  wicked  man,  surely  ; 
but  is  that  the  way  to  punish  even  the  wicked  ?  " 

"  I  cannot,"  observed  a  philosopher,  "  sympathize  under  any 
circumstances  with  so  immoral  a  deed ;  but  surely  the  manner  of 
doing  it  was  great." 

The  people  at  large  were  not  so  refined  in  their  comments  as 
either  the  Padrona  or  the  philosopher ;  but  soldiers  and  populace 
alike  ran  up  and  down,  singing,  "  Blessed  the  hand  that  rids  the 
earth  of  a  tyrant." 

Certainly,  the  manner  was  "  great," 

The  Chamber  was  awaiting  the  entrance  of  Rossi.  Had  he 
lived  to  enter,  he  would  have  found  the  Assembly,  without  a  sin 
gle  exception,  ranged  upon  the  Opposition  benches.  His  carriage 
approached,  attended  by  a  howling,  hissing  multitude.  He  smiled, 
affected  unconcern,  but  must  have  felt  relieved  when  his  horses 
entered  the  courtyard  gate  of  the  Cancelleria.  He  did  not  know 
he  was  entering  the  place  of  his  execution.  The  horses  stopped ; 
he  alighted  in  the  midst  of  a  crowd ;  it  jostled  him,  as  if  for  the 
purpose  of  insult ;  he  turned  abruptly,  and  received  as  he  did  so 
the  fatal  blow.  It  was  dealt  by  a  resolute,  perhaps  experienced, 
hand ;  he  fell  and  spoke  no  word  more. 

The  crowd,  as  if  all  previously  acquainted  with  the  plan,  as  no 
doubt  most  of  them  were,  issued  quietly  from  the  gate,  and  passed 
through  the  outside  crowd,  —  its  members,  among  whom  was  he 
who  dealt  the  blow,  dispersing  in  all  directions.  For  two  or 
three  minutes  this  outside  crowd  did  not  know  that  anything 
special  had  happened.  When  they  did,  the  news  was  at  the  mo- 


SAINT    CECILIA.  339 

ment  received  in  silence.  The  soldiers  in  whom  Rossi  had  trusted, 
whom  he  had  hoped  to  flatter  and  bribe,  stood  at  their  posts  and 
said  not  a  word.  Neither  they  nor  any  one  asked,  "  Who  did 
this  ?  Where  is  he  gone  ?  "  The  sense  of  the  people  certainly 
was  that  it  was  an  act  of  summary  justice  on  an  offender  whom 
the  laws  could  not  reach,  but  they  felt  it  to  be  indecent  to  shout 
or  exult  on  the  spot  where  he  was  breathing  his  last.  Rome,  so 
long  supposed  the  capital  of  Christendom,  certainly  took  a  very 
pagan  view  of  this  act,  and  the  piece  represented  on  the  occasion 
at  the  theatres  was  "  The  Death  of  Nero." 

The  next  morning  I  went  to  the  Church  of  St.  Andrea  della 
Valle,  where  was  to  be  performed  a  funeral  service,  with  fine 
music,  in  honor  of  the  victims  of  Vienna ;  for  this  they  do  here 
for  the  victims  of  every  place,  —  "  victims  of  Milan,"  "  victims  of 
Paris,"  "  victims  of  Naples,"  and  now  "  victims  of  Vienna."  But 
to-day  I  found  the  church  closed,  the  service  put  off,  —  Rome  was 
thinking  about  her  own  victims. 

I  passed  into  the  Ripetta,  and  entered  the  Church  of  San  Luigi 
dei  Francesi.  The  Republican  flag  was  flying  at  the  door ;  the 
young  sacristan  said  the  fine  musical  service,  which  this  church, 
gave  formerly  on  St.  Philip's  day  in  honor  of  Louis  Phftippe, 
would  now  be  transferred  to  the  Republican  anniversary,  the  25th 
of  February.  I  looked  at  the  monument  Chateaubriand  erect 
ed  when  here,  to  a  poor  girl  who  died,  last  of  her  family,  having 
seen  all  the  others  perish  round  her.  I  entered  the  Domenichino 
Chapel,  and  gazed  anew  on  the  magnificent  representations  of 
the  Life  and  Death  of  St.  Cecilia.  She  and  St.  Agnes  are  rny  fa 
vorite  saints.  I  love  to  think  of  those  angel  visits  which  her  hus 
band  knew  by  the  fragrance  of  roses  and  lilies  left  behind  in  the 
apartment.  I  love  to  think  of  his  visit  to  the  Catacombs,  and  all 
that  followed.  In  one  of  the  pictures  St.  Cecilia,  as  she  stretches 
out  her  arms  toward  the  suffering  multitude,  seems  as  if  an  immor 
tal  fount  of  purest  love  sprung  from  her  heart.  It  gives  very 
strongly  the  idea  of  an  inexhaustible  love,  —  the  only  love  that 
is  much  worth  thinking  about. 

Leaving  the  church,  I  passed  along  toward  the  Piazza  del  Po- 


340  THINGS    AND    THOUGHTS    IN    EUROPE. 

polo.  "  Yellow  Tiber  rose,"  but  not  high  enough  to  cause  "dis 
tress,"  as  he  does  when  in  a  swelling  mood.  I  heard  the  drums 
beating,  and,  entering  the  Piazza,  I  found  the  troops  of  the  line 
already  assembled,  and  the  Civic  Guard  marching  in  by  platoons, 
each  battalion  saluted  as  it  entered  by  trumpets  and  a  fine  strain 
from  the  band  of  the  Carbineers. 

I  climbed  the  Pincian  to  see  better.  There  is  no  place  so  fine 
for  anything  of  this  kind  as  the  Piazza  del  Popolo,  it  is  so  full  of 
light,  so  fair  and  grand,  the  obelisk  and  fountain  make  so  fine  a 
centre  to  all  kinds  of  groups. 

The  object  of  the  present  meeting  was  for  the  Civic  Guard  and 
troops  of  the  line  to  give  pledges  of  sympathy  preparatory  to  go 
ing  to  the  Quirinal  to  demand  a  change  of  ministry  and  of  meas 
ures.  The  flag  of  the  Union  was  placed  in  front  of  the  obelisk  ; 
all  present  saluted  it ;  some  officials  made  addresses  ;  the  trum 
pets  sounded,  and  all  moved  toward  the  Quirinal. 

Nothing  could  be  gentler  than  the  disposition  of  those  composing 
the  crowd.  They  were  resolved  to  be  played  with  no  longer,  but  no 
threat  was  uttered  or  thought.  They  believed  that  the  court  would 
be  convinced  by  the  fate  of  Rossi  that  the  retrograde  movement  it 
had  attempted  was  impracticable.  They  knew  the  retrograde 
party  were  panic-struck,  and  hoped  to  use  the  occasion  to  free  the 
Pope  from  its  meshes.  All  felt  that  Pius  IX.  had  fallen  irrevo 
cably  from  his  high  place  as  the  friend  of  progress  and  father 
of  Italy ;  but  still  he  was  personally  beloved,  and  still  his  name, 
so  often  shouted  in  hope  and  joy,  had  not  quite  lost  its  prestige. 

I  returned  to  the  house,  which  is  very  near  the  Quirinal.  On 
one  side  I  could  see  the  palace  and  gardens  of  the  Pope,  on  the 
other  the  Piazza  Barberini  and  street  of  the  Four  Fountains. 
Presently  I  saw  the  carriage  of  Prince  Barberini  drive  hurriedly 
into  his  court-yard  gate,  the  footman  signing  to  close  it,  a  discharge 
of  fire-arms  was  heard,  and  the  drums  of  the  Civ  ic  Guard  beat  to 
arms. 

The  Padrona  ran  up  and  down,  crying  with  every  round  of 
shot,  "  Jesu  Maria,  they  are  killing  the  Pope  !  O  poor  Holy 
Father !  —  Tito,  Tito,"  (out  of  the  window  to  her  husband,)  "  what 
\s  the  matter  ?  " 


DEMONSTRATION    ON   THE    QUIRINAL.  341 

The  lord  of  creation  disdained  to  reply. 

"  O  Signers !  pray,  pray,  ask  Tito  what  is  the  matter  ?  " 

I  did  so. 

"  I  don't  know,  Signora  ;  nobody  knows." 

"  Why  don't  you  go  on  the  Mount  and  see  ?  " 

"  It  would  be  an  imprudence,  Signora ;  nobody  will  go." 

I  was  just  thinking  to  go  myself,  when  I  saw  a  poor  man  borne 
by,  badly  wounded,  and  heard  that  the  Swiss  were  firing  on  the 
people.  Their  doing  so  was  the  cause  of  whatever  violence  there 
was,  and  it  was  not  much. 

The  people  had  assembled,  as  usual,  at  the  Quirinal,  only  with 
more  form  and  solemnity  than  usual.  They  had  taken  with  them 
several  of  the  Chamber  of  Deputies,  and  they  sent  an  embassy, 
headed  by  Galetti,  who  had  been  in  the  late  ministry,  to  state 
their  wishes.  They  received  a  peremptory  negative.  They  then 
insisted  on  seeing  the  Pope,  and  pressed  on  the  palace.  The 
Swiss  became  alarmed,  and  fired  from  the  windows  and  from  the 
roof.  They  did  this,  it  is  said,  without  orders ;  but  who  could,  at 
the  time,  suppose  that  ?  If  it  had  been  planned  to  exasperate  the 
people  to  blood,  what  more  could  have  been  done?  As  it'w^s, 
very  little  was  shed  ;  but  the  Pope,  no  doubt,  felt  great  panic. 
He  heard  the  report  of  fire-arms,  —  heard  that  they  tried  to  burn 
a  door  of  the  palace.  I  would  lay  my  life  that  he  could  have 
shown  himself  without  the  slightest  danger  ;  nay,  that  the  ha 
bitual  respect  for  his  presence  would  have  prevailed,  and  hushed 
all  tumult.  He  did  not  think  so,  and,  to  still  it,  once  more  degrad 
ed  himself  and  injured  his  people,  by  making  promises  he  did  not 
mean  to  keep. 

He  protests  now  against  those  promises  as  extorted  by  violence, 
—  a  strange  plea  indeed  for  the  representative  of  St.  Peter ! 

Rome  is  all  full  of  the  effigies  of  those  over  whom  violence  had 
no  power.  There  was  an  early  Pope  about  to  be  thrown  into  the 
Tiber ;  violence  had  no  power  to  make  him  say  what  he  did  not 
mean.  Delicate  girls,  men  in  the  prime  of  hope  and  pride  of 
power.  —  they  were  all  alike  about  that.  They  could  die  in  boil 
ing  oil,  roasted  on  coals,  or  cut  to  pieces  ;  but  they  could  not  say 
29* 


342  THINGS    AND    THOUGHTS    IN    EUROPE. 

what  they  did  not  mean.  These  formed  the  true  Church ;  it  was 
these  who  had  power  to  disseminate  the  religion  of  him,  the  Prince 
of  Peace,  who  died  a  bloody  death  of  torture  between  sinners,  be 
cause  he  never  could  say  what  he  did  not  mean. 

A  little  church  outside  the  gate  of  St.  Sebastian  commemorates 
the  following  affecting  tradition  of  the  Church.  Peter,  alarmed  at 
the  persecution  of  the  Christians,  had  gone  forth  to  fly,  when  in 
this  spot  he  saw  a  bright  figure  in  his  path,  and  recognized  his 
Master  travelling  toward  Rome.  "  Lord,"  he  said,  "  whither 
goest  thou  ?  "  "  I  go,"  replied  Jesus,  "  to  die  with  my  people." 
Peter  comprehended  the  reproof.  He  felt  that  he  must  not  a 
fourth  time  deny  his  Master,  yet  hope  for  salvation.  He  returned 
to  Rome  to  offer  his  life  in  attestation  of  his  faith. 

The  Roman  Catholic  Church  has  risen  a,  monument  to  the 
memory  of  such  facts.  And  has  the  present  head  of  that  Church 
quite  failed  to  understand  their  monition  ? 

Not  all  the  Popes  have  so  failed,  though  the  majority  have  been 
intriguing,  ambitious  men  of  the  world.  But  even  the  mob  of 
Rome  —  and  in  Rome  there  is  a  true  mob  of  unheeding  cabbage- 
sellers,  who  never  had  a  thought  before  beyond  contriving  how 
to  satisfy  their  animal  instincts  for  the  day  —  said,  on  hearing  the 
protest,  "  There  was  another  Pius,  not  long  since,  who  talked  in 
a  very  different  style.  When  the  French  threatened  him,  he 
said,  '  You  may  do  with  me  as  you  see  fit,  but  I  cannot  consent 
to  act  against  my  convictions.'  " 

In  fact,  the  only  dignified  course  for  the  Pope  to  pursue  was  to 
resign  his  temporal  power.  He  could  no  longer  hold  it  on  his 
own  terms  ;  but  to  it  he  clung ;  and  the  counsellors  around  him 
were  men  to  wish  him  to  regard  that  as  the  first  of  duties.  When 
the  question  was  of  waging  war  for  the  independence  of  Italy, 
they  regarded  him  solely  as  the  head  of  the  Church  ;  but  when  the 
demand  was  to  satisfy  the  wants  of  his  people,  and  ecclesiastical 
goods  were  threatened  with  taxes,  then  he  was  the  prince  of  the 
state,  bound  to  maintain  all  the  selfish  prerogatives  of  bygone 
days  for  the  benefit  of  his  successors.  Poor  Pope  !  how  has  his 
jnind  been  torn  to  pieces  in  these  later  days !  It  moves  compas- 


* 

THE    POPE'S    FLIGHT.  343 

sion.  There  can  be  no  doubt  that  all  his  natural  impulses  are 
generous  and  kind,  and  in  a  more  private  station  he  would  have 
died  beloved  and  honored ;  but  to  this  he  was  unequal ;  he  has 
suffered  bad  men  to  surround  him,  and  by  their  misrepresentations 
and  insidious  suggestions  at  last  entirely  to  cloud  his  mind.  I  be 
lieve  he  really  thinks  now  the  Progress  movement  tends  to  anar 
chy,  blood,  and  all  that  looked  worst  in  the  first  French  revolution. 
However  that  may  be,  I  cannot  forgive  him  some  of  the  circum 
stances  of  this  flight.  To  fly  to  Naples  ;  to  throw  himself  in  the 
arms  of  the  bombarding  monarch,  blessing  him  and  thanking  his 
soldiery  for  preserving  that  part  of  Italy  from  anarchy ;  to  pro 
test  that  all  his  promises  at  Rome  were  null  and  void,  when  he 
thought  himself  in  safety  to  choose  a  commission  for  governing  in 
his  absence,  composed  of  men  of  princely  blood,  but  as  to  charac 
ter  so  null  that  everybody  laughed,  and  said  he  chose  those  who 
could  best  be  spared  if  they  were  killed ;  (but  they  all  ran  away 
directly ;)  when  Rome  was  thus  left  without  any  government,  to 
refuse  to  see  any  deputation,  even  the  Senator  of  Rome,  whom  he 
had  so  gladly  sanctioned,  —  these  are  the  acts  either  of  a  fool  or 
a  foe.  They  are  not  his  acts,  to  be  sure,  but  he  is  responsible ;  he 
lets  them  stand  as  such  in  the  face  of  the  world,  and  weeps  and 
prays  for  their  success. 

No  more  of  him !  His  day  is  over.  He  has  been  made,  it 
seems  unconsciously,  an  instrument  of  good  his  regrets  cannot  de 
stroy.  Nor  can  he  be  made  so  important  an  instrument  of  ill. 
These  acts  have  not  had  the  effect  the  foes  of  freedom  hoped. 
Rome  remained  quite  cool  and  composed ;  all  felt  that  they  had 
not  demanded  more  than  was  their  duty  to  demand,  and  were 
willing  to  accept  what  might  follow.  In  a  few  days  all  began  to 
say :  "  Well,  who  would  have  thought  it  ?  The  Pope,  the  Car 
dinals,  the  Princes  are  gone,  and  Rome  is  perfectly  tranquil,  and 
one  does  not  miss  anything,  except  that  there  are  not  so  many 
rich  carriages  and  liveries." 

The  Pope  may  regret  too  late  that  he  ever  gave  the  people  a 
chance  to  make  this  reflection.  Yet  the  best  fruits  of  the  move 
ment  may  not  ripen  for  a  long  time.  It  is  a  movement  which  re- 


344  THINGS    AND    THOUGHTS    IN    EUROPE. 

quires  radical  measures,  clear-sighted,  resolute  men :  these  last,  as 
yet,  do  not  show  themselves  in  Rome.  The  new  Tuscan  ministry 
has  three  men  of  superior  force  in  various  ways,  —  Montanelli, 
Guerazzi,  D'Aguila  ;  such  are  not  as  yet  to  be  found  in  Rome. 

But  should  she  fall  this  time,  —  and  she  must  either  advance 
with  decision  and  force,  or  fall,  since  to  stand  still  is  impossi- 
ble^  —  the  people  have  learned  much  ;  ignorance  and  servility  of 
thought  are  lessened,  —  the  way  is  paving  for  final  triumph. 
j  And  my  country,  what  does  she  ?  You  have  chosen  a  new 
President  from  a  Slave  State,  representative  of  the  Mexican  war. 
But  he  seems  to  be  honest,  a  man  that  can  be  esteemed,  and  is 
one  really  known  to  the  people,  which  is  a  step  upward,  after 
having  sunk  last  time  to  choosing  a  mere  tool  of  party. 

Pray  send  here  a  good  Ambassador,  —  one  that  has  experience 
of  foreign  life,  that  he  may  act  with  good  judgment,  and,  if  possi 
ble,  a  man  that  has  knowledge  and  views  which  extend  beyond 
the  cause  of  party  politics  in  the  United  States,  —  a  man  of  unity 
in  principles,  but  capable  of  understanding  variety  in  forms.  And 
send  a  man  capable  of  prizing  the  luxury  of  living  in,  or 
knowing  Rome ;  the  office  of  Ambassador  is  one  that  should 
not  be  thrown  away  on  a  person  who  cannot  prize  or  use  it. 
/Another  century,  and  I  might  ask  to  be  made  Ambassador 
myself,  ('t  is  true,  like  other  Ambassadors,  I  would  employ 
clerks  to  do  the  most  of  the  duty,)  but  woman's  day  has  not 
come  yet.  They  hold  their  clubs  in  Paris,  but  even  George 
Sand  will  not  act  with  women  as  they  are.  They  say  she 
pleads  they  are  too  mean,  too  treacherous.  She  should  not 
abandon  them  for  that,  which  is  not  nature,  but  misfortune.  How 
much  I  shall  have  to  say  on  that  subject  if  I  live,  which  I  desire 
not,  for  I  am  very  tired  of  the  battle  with  giant  wrongs,  and 
would  like  to  have  some  one  younger  and  stronger  arise  to 
say  what  ought  to  be  said,  still  more  to  do  what  ought  to  be  done. 
t  Enough  !  if  I  felt  these  things  in  privileged  America,  the  cries 
of  mothers  and  wives  beaten  at  night  by  sons  and  husbands 
for  their  diversion  after  drinking,  as  I  have  repeatedly  heard 
them  these  past  months,  —  the  excuse  for  falsehood,  "  I  dare  not 


DON    TIRLONE.  345 

tell  my  husband,  he  would  be  ready  to  kill  me," — have  sharp 
ened  my  perception  as  to  the  ills  of  woman's  condition  and  the 
remedies  that  must  be  applied.  Had  I  but  genius,  had  I  but 
energy,  to  tell  what  I  know  as  it  ought  to  be  told !  God  grant 
them  me,  or  some  other  more  worthy  woman,  I  pray. 

Don  Tirlone,  the  Punch  of  Rome,  has  just  come  in.  This 
number  represents  the  fortress  of  Gaeta.  Outside  hangs  a  cage 
containing  a  parrot  (pappagallo),  the  plump  body  of  the  bird 
surmounted  by  a  noble  large  head  with  benign  face  and  Papal 
head-dress.  He  sits  on  the  perch  now  with  folded  wings,  but  the 
cage  door,  in  likeness  of  a  portico,  shows  there  is  convenience  to 
come  forth  for  the  purposes  of  benediction,  when  wanted.  Out 
side,  the  king  of  Naples,  dressed  as  Harlequin,  plays  the  organ 
for  instruction  of  the  bird  (unhappy  penitent,  doomed  to  penance), 
and,  grinning  with  sharp  teeth,  observes  :  "  He  speaks  in  my  way 
now."  In  the  background  a  young  Republican  holds  ready  the 
match  for  a  barrel  of  gunpowder,  but  looks  at  his  watch,  waiting 
the  moment  to  ignite  it. 

A  happy  New  Year  to  my  country  !  may  she  be  worthy  of  the 
privileges  she  possesses,  while  others  are  lavishing  their  blood  to 
win  them,  —  that  is  all  that  need  be  wished  for  her  at  present. 


LETTER    XXVII. 

Rome. —The  Carnival:  the  Moccoletti.  —  The  Roman  Character.  —  The  PC pe's 
Flight.  — The  Assembly.  —  The  People.  —  The  Pope's  Mistake.  —  Kis  Mani 
festo  :  its  Tone  and  Effect.  —  Destruction  of  the  Temporal  Dominion  of  the 
Church. 

Rome,  Evening  of  Feb.  20,  1849. 

IT  is  said  you  cannot  thoroughly  know  any  place  till  you  have 
both  summered  and  wintered  in  it;  but  more  than  one  summer 
and  winter  of  experience  seems  to  be  needed  for  Rome.  How 
I  fretted  last  winter,  during  the  three  months'  rain,  and  sepulchral 
chill,  and  far  worse  than  sepulchral  odors,  which  accompanied  it ! 
I  thought  it  was  the  invariable  Roman  winter,  and  that  I  should 
never  be  able  to  stay  here  during  another  ;  so  took  my  room  only 
by  the  month,  thinking  to  fly  so  soon  as  the  rain  set  in.  And  lo ! 
it  has  never  rained  at  all ;  but  there  has  been  glorious  sun  and 
moon,  unstained  by  cloud,  always ;  and  these  last  days  have  been 
as  warm  as  May, — the  days  of  the  Carnival,  for  I  have  just 
come  in  from  seeing  the  Moccoletti. 

The  Republican  Carnival  has  not  been  as  splendid  as  the  Papal, 
the  absence  of  dukes  and  princes  being  felt  in  the  way  of  coaches 
and  rich  dresses  ;  there  are  also  fewer  foreigners  than  usual,  many 
having  feared  to  assist  at  this  most  peaceful  of  revolutions.  But 
if  less  splendid,  it  was  not  less  gay ;  the  costumes  were  many  and 
fanciful,  —  flowers,  smiles,  and  fun  abundant. 

This  is  the  first  time  of  my  seeing  the  true  Moccoletti  ;  last 
year,  in  one  of  the  first  triumphs  of  democracy,  they  did  not  blow 
out  the  lights,  thus  turning  it  into  an  illumination.  The  effect  of 
the  swarms  of  lights,  little  and  large,  thus  in  motion  all  over  the 
fronts  of  the  houses,  and  up  and  down  the  Corso,  was  exceedingly 
pretty  and  fairy-like ;  but  that  did  not  make  up  for  the  loss  of  that 


FAIR    OF    ST.    EUSTACHIO.  347 

wild,  innocent  gayety  of  which  this  people  alone  is  capable  after 
childhood,  and  which  never  shines  out  so  much  as  on  this  occasion. 
It  is  astonishing  the  variety  of  tones,  the  lively  satire  and  taunt  of 
which  the  words  Senza  moccolo,  senza  mo,  are  susceptible  from 
their  tongues.  The  scene  is  the  best  burlesque  on  the  life  of  the 
"  respectable  "  world  that  can  be  imagined.  A  ragamuffin  with  a 
little  piece  of  candle,  not  even  lighted,  thrusts  it  in  your  face  with 
an  air  of  far  greater  superiority  than  he  can  wear  who,  dressed  in 
gold  and  velvet,  erect  in  his  carriage,  holds  aloft  his  light  on  a 
tall  pole.  In  vain  his  security ;  while  he  looks  down  on  the  crowd 
to  taunt  the  wretches  senza  mo,  a  weak  female  hand  from  a  cham 
ber  window  blots  out  his  pretensions  by  one  flirt  of  an  old  hand 
kerchief. 

Many  handsome  women,  otherwise  dressed  in  white,  wore  the 
red  liberty  cap,  and  the  noble  though  somewhat  coarse  Roman 
outline  beneath  this  brilliant  red,  by  the  changeful  glow  of  mil 
lion  lights,  made  a  fine  effect.  Men  looked  too  vulgar  in  the 
liberty  cap. 

How  I  mourn  that  my  little  companion  E.  never  saw  these 
things,  that  would  have  given  him  such  store  of  enchanting 
reminiscences  for  all  his  after  years !  I  miss  him  always  on  such 
occasions  ;  formerly  it  was  through  him  that  I  enjoyed  them.  He 
had  the  child's  heart,  had  the  susceptible  fancy,  and,  naturally,  a 
fine  discerning  sense  for  whatever  is  individual  or  peculiar. 

I  missed  him  much  at  the  Fair  of  St.  Eustachio.  This,  like 
the  Carnival,  was  last  year  entirely  spoiled  by  constant  rain.  I 
never  saw  it  at  all  before.  It  comes  in  the  first  days,  or  rather 
nights,  of  January.  All  the  quarter  of  St.  Eustachio  is  turned 
into  one  toy-shop ;  the  stalls  are  set  out  in  the  street  and  brightly 
lighted  up.  These  are  full  of  cheap  toys, — prices  varying  from  half 
a  cent  up  to  twenty  cents.  The  dolls,  which  are  dressed  as  husband 
and  wife,  or  sometimes  grouped  in  families,  are  the  most  grotesque 
rag-babies  that  can  be  imagined.  Among  the  toys  are  great  quan 
tities  of  whistles,  tin  trumpets,  and  little  tambourines  ;  of  these  every 
man,  woman,  and  child  has  bought  one,  and  is  using  it  to  make  a 
noise.  This  extempore  concert  begins  about  ten  o'clock,  and  lasts 


348  THINGS    AND    THOUGHTS    IN    EUROPE. 

till  midnight ;  the  delight  of  the  numerous  children  that  form  part 
of  the  orchestra,  the  good-humored  familiarity  without  the  least 
touch  of  rudeness  in  the  crowd,  the  lively  effect  of  the  light  upon 
the  toys,  and  the  jumping,  shouting  figures  that  exhibit  them, 
make  this  the  pleasantest  Saturnalia.  Had  you  only  been  there, 
E.,  to  guide  me  by  the  hand,  blowing  the  trumpet  for  both,  and 
spying  out  a  hundred  queer  things  in  nooks  that  entirely  escape 
me  ! 

The  Roman  still  plays  amid  his  serious  affairs,  and  very  seri 
ous  have  they  been  this  past  winter.  The  Roman  legions  went 
out  singing  and  dancing  to  fight  in  Lombardy,  and  they  fought  no 
less  bravely  for  that. 

When  I  wrote  last,  the  Pope  had  fled,  guided,  he  says,  "  by 
the  hand  of  Providence,"  —  Italy  deems  by  the  hand  of  Austria, 
—  to  Gaeta.  He  had  already  soiled  his  white  robes,  and  defamed 
himself  for  ever,  by  heaping  benedictions  on  the  king  of  Naples 
and  the  bands  of  mercenaries  whom  he  employs  to  murder  his 
subjects  on  the  least  sign  of  restlessness  in  their  most  painful 
position.  Most  cowardly  had  been  the  conduct  of  his  making 
promises  he  never  meant  to  keep,  stealing  away  by  night  in  the 
coach  of  a  foreign  diplomatist,  protesting  that  what  he  had  done 
was  null  because  he  had  acted  under  fear,  —  as  if  such  a  protest 
could  avail  to  one  who  boasts  himself  representative  of  Christ  and 
his  Apostles,  guardian  of  the  legacy  of  the  martyrs  !  He  selected 
a  band  of  most  incapable  men  to  face  the  danger  he  had  feared 
for  himself;  most  of  these  followed  his  example  and  fled.  Rome 
sought  an  interview  with  him,  to  see  if  reconciliation  were  possi 
ble  ;  he  refused  to  receive  her  messengers.  His  wicked  advisers 
calculated  upon  great  confusion  and  distress  as  inevitable  on  the 
occasion ;  but,  for  once,  the  hope  of  the  bad  heart  was  doomed  to 
immediate  disappointment.  Rome  coolly  said,  "  If  you  desert 
me,  —  if  you  will  not  hear  me,  —  I  must  act  for  myself."  She 
threw  herself  into  the  arms  of  a  few  men  who  had  courage  and 
calmness  for  this  crisis ;  they  bade  her  think  upon  what  was  to 
be  done,  meanwhile  avoiding  every  excess  that  could  give  a  color 
to  calumny  and  revenge.  The  people,  with  admirable  good  sense, 


MORAL    ASPECT    OF    ITALIAN    REVOLUTION.  349 

comprehended  and  followed  up  this  advice.  Never  was  Rome  so 
truly  tranquil,  so  nearly  free  from  gross  ill,  as  this  winter.  A  few 
words  of  brotherly  admonition  have  been  more  powerful  than  all 
the  spies,  dungeons,  and  scaffolds  of  Gregory. 

"  The  hand  of  the  Omnipotent  works  for  us,"  observed  an  old 
man  whom  I  saw  in  the  street  selling  cigars  the  evening  before 
the  opening  of  the  Constitutional  Assembly.  He  was  struck  by 
the  radiant  beauty  of  the  night.  The  old  people  observe  that 
there  never  has  been  such  a  winter  as  this  which  follows  the 
establishment  by  the  French  of  a  republic. 

May  the  omens  speed  well !  A  host  of  enemies  without  are 
ready  to  levy  war  against  this  long-suffering  people,  to  rivet 
anew  their  chains.  Still  there  is  now  an  obvious  tide  through 
out  Europe  toward  a  better  order  of  things,  and  a  wave  of  it  may 
bear  Italy  onward  to  the  shore. 

The  revolution,  like  all  genuine  ones,  has  been  instinctive,  its 
results  unexpected  and  surprising  to  the  greater  part  of  those 
who  achieved  them.  The  waters,  which  had  flowed  so  secretly 
beneath  the  crust  of  habit  that  many  never  heard  their  murmur, 
unless  in  dreams,  have  suddenly  burst  to  light  in  full  and  beauti 
ful  jets ;  all  rush  to  drink  the  pure  and  living  draught. 

As  in  the  time  of  Jesus,  the  multitude  had  been  long  enslaved 
beneath  a  cumbrous  ritual,  their  minds  designedly  darkened  by 
those  who  should  have  enlightened  them,  brutified,  corrupted, 
amid  monstrous  contradictions  and  abuses ;  yet  the  moment  they 
hear  a  word  correspondent  to  the  original  nature,  "  Yes,  it  is 
true,"  they  cry.  "  It  is  spoken  with  authority.  Yes,  it  ought  to 
be  so.  Priests  ought  to  be  better  and  wiser  than  other  men ;  if 
they  were,  they  would  not  need  pomp  and  temporal  power  to 
command  respect.  Yes,  it  is  true ;  we  ought  not  to  lie ;  we 
should  not  try  to  impose  upon  one  another.  We  ought  rather  to 
prefer  that  our  children  should  work  honestly  for  their  bread,  than 
get  it  by  cheating,  begging,  or  the  prostitution  of  their  mothers. 
It  would  be  better  to  act  worthily  and  kindly,  probably  would 
please  God  more  than  the  kissing  of  relics.  We  have  long 
darkly  felt  that  these  things  were  so ;  now  we  know  it." 
30 


350  THINGS    AND    THOUGHTS    IN    EUROPE. 

The  unreality  of  relation  between  the  people  and  the  hierarchy 
was  obvious  instantly  upon  the  flight  of  Pius.  He  made  an  im 
mense  mistake  then,  and  he  made  it  because  neither  he  nor  his 
Cardinals  were  aware  of  the  unreality.  They  did  not  know  that, 
great  as  is  the  force  of  habit,  truth  only  is  imperishable.  The 
people  had  abhorred  Gregory,  had  adored  Pius,  upon  whom  they 
looked  as  a  saviour,  as  a  liberator ;  finding  themselves  deceived,  a 
mourning- veil  had  overshadowed  their  love.  Still,  had  Pius  re 
mained  here,  and  had  courage  to  show  himself  on  agitating  occa 
sions,  his  position  as  the  Pope,  before  whom  they  had  been  bred 
to  bow,  his  aspect,  which  had  once  seemed  to  them  full  of  bless 
ing  and  promise,  like  that  of  an  angel,  would  have  still  retained 
power.  Probably  the  temporal  dominion  of  the  Papacy  would 
not  have  been  broken  up.  He  fled ;  the  people  felt  contempt  for 
his  want  of  force  and  truth.  He  wrote  to  reproach  them  with 
ingratitude ;  they  were  indignant.  What  had  they  to  be  grate 
ful  for  ?  A  constitution  to  which  he  had  not  kept  true  an  instant; 
the  institution  of  the  National  Guard,  which  he  had  begun  to  neu 
tralize  ;  benedictions,  followed  by  such  actions  as  the  desertion  of 
the  poor  volunteers  in  the  war  for  Italian  independence  ?  Still, 
the  people  were  not  quite  alienated  from  Pius.  They  felt  sure 
that  his  heart  was,  in  substance,  good  and  kindly,  though  the 
habits  of  the  priest  and  the  arts  of  his  counsellors  had  led  him  so 
egregiously  to  falsify  its  dictates  and  forget  the  vocation  with 
which  he  had  been  called.  Many  hoped  he  would  see  his  mis 
take,  and  return  to  be  at  one  with  the  people.  Among  the  more 
ignorant,  there  was  a  superstitious  notion  that  he  would  return  in 
the  night  of  the  5th  of  January.  There  were  many  bets  that  he 
would  be  found  in  the  palace  of  the  Quirinal  the  morning  of  the 
6th.  All  these  lingering  feelings  were  finally  extinguished  by  the 
advice  of  excommunication.  As  this  may  not  have  reached 
America,  I  subjoin  a  translation.  Here  I  was  obliged  to  make 
use  of  a  manuscript  copy ;  all  the  printed  ones  were  at  once  de 
stroyed.  It  is  probably  the  last  document  of  the  kind  the  world 
will  see. 


THE    POPE'S    MANIFESTO.  351 

MANIFESTO  OF  Pius  IX. 

"To  OUR  MOST  BELOVED  SUBJECTS:  — 

"  From  this  pacific  abode  to  which  it  has  pleased  Divine  Provi 
dence  to  conduct  us,  and  whence  we  can  freely  manifest  our  senti 
ments  and  our  will,  we  have  waited  for  testimonies  of  remorse  from 
our  misguided  children  for  the  sacrileges  and  misdeeds  commit 
ted  against  persons  attached  to  our  service, — among  whom  some 
have  been  slain,  others  outraged  in  the  most  barbarous  man 
ner,  —  as  well  as  for  those  against  our  residence  and  our  person. 
But  we  have  seen  nothing  except  a  sterile  invitation  to  return  to 
our  capital,  unaccompanied  by  a  word  of  condemnation  for  those 
crimes  or  the  least  guaranty  for  our  security  against  the  frauds 
and  violences  of  that  same  company  of  furious  men  which  still 
tyrannizes  with  a  barbarous  despotism  over  Rome  and  the  States 
of  the  Church.  We  also  waited,  expecting  that  the  protests  and 
orders  we  have  uttered  would  recall  to  the  duties  of  fidelity  and 
subjection  those  who  have  despised  and  trampled  upon  them  in 
the  very  capital  of  our  States.  But,  instead  of  this,  a  new  and 
more  monstrous  act  of  undisguised  felony  and  of  actual  rebellion 
by  them  audaciously  committed,  has  filled  the  measure  of  our 
affliction,  and  excited  at  the  same  time  our  just  indignation,  as  it 
will  afflict  the  Church  Universal.  We  speak  of  that  act,  in  every 
respect  detestable,  by  which  it  has  been  pretended  to  initiate  the 
convocation  of  a  so-called  General  National  Assembly  of  the  Ro 
man  States,  by  a  decree  of  the  29th  of  last  December,  in  order  to 
establish  new  political  forms  for  the  Pontifical  dominion.  Add 
ing  thus  iniquity  to  iniquity,  the  authors  and  favorers  of  the 
demagogical  anarchy  strive  to  destroy  the  temporal  authority  of 
the  Roman  Pontiff  over  the  dominions  of  Holy  Church,  —  how 
ever  irrefragably  established  through  the  most  ancient  and  solid 
rights,  and  venerated,  recognized,  and  sustained  by  all  the  na 
tions, — pretending  and  making  others  believe  that  his  sovereign 
power  can  be  subject  to  controversy  or  depend  on  the  caprices 
of  the  factious.  We  shall  spare  our  dignity  the  humiliation  of 
dwelling  on  all  that  is  monstrous  contained  in  that  act,  abomina- 


352  THINGS    AND    THOUGHTS    IN    EUROPE. 

ble  through  the  absurdity  of  its  origin  no  less  than  the  illegality 
of  its  form  and  the  impiety  of  its  scope  ;  but  it  appertains  to  the 
apostolic  authority,  with  which,  however  unworthy,  we  are  in 
vested,  and  to  the  responsibility  which  binds  us  by  the  most 
sacred  oaths  in  the  sight  of  the  Omnipotent,  not  only  to  protest 
in  the  most  energetic  and  efficacious  manner  against  that  same 
act,  but  to  condemn  it  in  the  face  of  the  universe  as  an  enormous 
and  sacrilegious  crime  against  our  independence  and  sovereignty, 
meriting  the  chastisements  threatened  by  divine  and  human  laws. 
We  are  persuaded  that,  on  receiving  the  impudent  invitation,  you 
were  full  of  holy  indignation,  and  will  have  rejected  far  from 
you  this  guilty  and  shameful  provocation.  Notwithstanding,  that 
none  of  you  may  say  he  has  been  deluded  by  fallacious  seduc 
tions,  and  by  the  preachers  of  subversive  doctrines,  or  igno 
rant  of  what  is  contriving  by  the  foes  of  all  order,  all  law,  all 
right,  true  liberty,  and  your  happiness,  we  to-day  again  raise  and 
utter  abroad  our  voice,  so  that  you  may  be  more  certain  of  the 
absoluteness  with  which  we  prohibit  men,  of  whatever  class  and 
condition,  from  taking  any  part  in  the  meetings  which  those  per 
sons  may  dare  to  call,  for  the  nomination  of  individuals  to  be  sent 
to  the  condemned  Assembly.  At  the  same  time  we  recall  to  you 
how  this  absolute  prohibition  is  sanctioned  by  the  decrees  of  our 
predecessors  and  of  the  Councils,  especially  of  the  Sacred  Council- 
General  of  Trent,  Sect.  XXII.  Chap.  11,  in  which  the  Church 
has  fulminated  many  times  her  censures,  and  especially  the 
greater  excommunication,  as  incurred  without  fail  by  any  dec 
laration  of  whomsoever  daring  to  become  guilty  of  whatsoever 
attempt  against  the  temporal  sovereignty  of  the  Supreme  Pon 
tiff,  this  we  declare  to  have  been  already  unhappily  incurred  by 
ail  those  who  have  given  aid  to  the  above-named  act,  and  others 
preceding,  intended  to  prejudice  the  same  sovereignty,  and  in 
other  modes  and  under  false  pretexts  have  perturbed,  violated,  and 
usurped  our  authority.  Yet,  though  we  feel  ourselves  obliged 
by  conscience  to  guard  the  sacred  deposit  of  the  patrimony  of 
the  Spouse  of  Jesus  Christ,  confided  to  our  care,  by  using  the 
sword  of  severity  given  to  us  for  that  purpose,  we  cannot  there- 


THE    POPE'S    MANIFESTO.  353 

fore  forget  that  we  are  on  earth  the  representative  of  Him 
who  in  exercise  of  his  justice  does  not  forget  mercy.  Raising, 
therefore,  our  hands  to  Heaven,  while  we  to  it  recommend  a  cause 
which  is  indeed  more  Heaven's  than  ours,  and  while  anew  we 
declare  ourselves  ready,  with  the  aid  of  its  powerful  grace,  to 
drink  even  to  the  dregs,  for  the  defence  and  glory  of  the  Catholic 
Church,  the  cup  of  persecution  which  He  first  wished  to  drink  for 
the  salvation  of  the  same,  we  shall  not  desist  from  supplicating 
Him  benignly  to  hear  the  fervent  prayers  which  day  and  night 
we  unceasingly  offer  for  the  salvation  of  the  misguided.  No  day 
certainly  could  be  more  joyful  for  us,  than  that  in  which  it  shall 
be  granted  to  see  return  into  the  fold  of  the  Lord  our  sons  from 
whom  now  we  derive  so  much  bitterness  and  so  great  tribula 
tions.  The  hope  of  enjoying  soon  the  happiness  of  such  a  day 
is  strengthened  in  us  by  the  reflection,  that  universal  are  the 
prayers  which,  united  to  ours,  ascend  to  the  throne  of  Divine 
Mercy  from  the  lips  and  the  heart  of  the  faithful  throughout  the 
Catholic  world,  urging  it  continually  to  change  the  hearts  of  sin 
ners,  and  reconduct  them  into  the  paths  of  truth  and  of  justice. 
"  Gaeta,  January  6,  1849." 

The  silliness,  bigotry,  and  ungenerous  tone  of  this  manifesto 
excited  a  simultaneous  movement  in  the  population.  The  pro 
cession  which  carried  it,  mumbling  chants,  for  deposit  in  places 
provided  for  lowest  uses,  and  then,  taking  from  the  doors  of  the 
hatters'  shops  the  cardinals'  hats,  threw  them  into  the  Tiber,  was 
a  real  and  general  expression  of  popular  disgust.  From  that  hour 
the  power  of  the  scarlet  hierarchy  fell  to  rise  no  more.  No  au 
thority  can  survive  a  universal  movement  of  derision.  From  that 
hour  tongues  and  pens  were  loosed,  the  leaven  of  Machiavellism, 
which  still  polluted  the  productions  of  the  more  liberal,  disap 
peared,  and  people  talked  as  they  felt,  just  as  those  of  us  who  do 
not  choose  to  be  slaves  are  accustomed  to  do  in  America. 

"  Jesus,"  cried  an  orator,  "  bade  them  feed  his  lambs.  If  they 
have  done  so,  it  has  been  to  rob  their  fleece  and  drink  their 
blood." 

30* 


354  THINGS    AND    THOUGHTS    IN    EUROPE. 

"  Why,"  said  another,  "  have  we  been  so  long  deaf  to  the 
saying,  that  the  temporal  dominion  of  the  Church  was  like  a 
thorn  in  the  wound  of  Italy,  which  shall  never  be  healed  till 
that  thorn  is  extracted  ?  " 

And  then,  without  passion,  all  felt  that  the  temporal  dominion 
was  in  fact  finished  of  itself,  and  that  it  only  remained  to  organize 
another  form  of  government. 


LETTER    XXVIII. 

Gioberti,  Mamiani,  and  Mazzini.  —  Formation  of  the  Constitutional  Assembly. 
—  The  Eight  of  Suffrage.  —  A  Procession.  —  Proclamation  of  the  Repub- 
lic. —  Results.  —  Decree  of  the  Assembly. —  Americans  in  Rome:  Differ 
ence  of  Impressions.  —  Flight  of  the  Grand  Duke  of  Tuscany.  —  Charles 
Albert.  —  Present  State  of  Rome.  —  Reflections  and  Conclusions.  —  Latest 
Intelligence. 

Rome,  Evening  of  Feb.  20,  1849. 

THE  League  between  the  Italian  States,  and  the  Diet  which  was 
to  establish  it,  had  been  the  thought  of  Gioberti,  but  had  found  the 
instrument  at  Rome  in  Mamiani.  The  deputies  were  to  be  named 
by  princes  or  parliaments,  their  mandate  to  be  limited  by  the  ex 
isting  institutions  of  the  several  states ;  measures  of  mutual  security 
and  some  modifications  in  the  way  of  reform  would  be  the  utmost 
that  could  be  hoped  from  this  Diet.  The  scope  of  this  party  did 
not  go  beyond  more  vigorous  prosecution  of  the  war  for  inde 
pendence,  and  the  establishment  of  good  institutions  for  the  sev 
eral  principalities  on  a  basis  of  assimilation. 

Mazzini,  the  great  radical  thinker  of  Italy,  was,  on  the  contrary, 
persuaded  that  unity,  not  union,  was  necessary  to  this  country. 
He  had  taken  for  his  motto,  GOD  AND  THE  PEOPLE,  and  be 
lieved  in  no  other  powers.  He  wished  an  Italian  Constitutional 
Assembly,  selected  directly  by  the  people,  and  furnished  with  an 
unlimited  mandate  to  decide  what  form  was  now  required  by  the 
needs  of  the  Peninsula.  His  own  wishes,  certainly,  aimed  at  a 
republic ;  but  the  decision  remained  with  the  representatives  of 
the  people. 

The  thought  of  Gioberti  had  been  at  first  the  popular  one,  as 
he,  in  fact,  was  the  seer  of  the  so-called  Moderate  party.  For 
myself,  I  always  looked  upon  him  as  entirely  a  charlatan,  who 


356  THINGS    AND    THOUGHTS    IN    EUROPE. 

covered  his  want  of  all  real  force  by  the  thickest  embroidered 
mantle  of  words.  Still,  for  a  time,  he  corresponded  with  the 
wants  of  the  Italian  mind.  He  assailed  the  Jesuits,  and  was  of 
real  use  by  embodying  the  distrust  and  aversion  that  brooded  in 
the  minds  of  men  against  these  most  insidious  and  inveterate  foes 
of  liberty  and  progress.  This  triumph,  at  least,  he  may  boast : 
that  sect  has  been  obliged  to  yield  ;  its  extinction  seems  impossi 
ble,  of  such  life-giving  power  was  the  fiery  will  of  Loyola.  In  the 
Primate  he  had  embodied  the  lingering  hope  of  the  Catholic 
Church  ;  Pius  IX.  had  answered  to  the  appeal,  had  answered  only 
to  show  its  futility.  He  had  run  through  Italy  as  courier  for 
Charles  Albert,  when  the  so  falsely  styled  Magnanimous  entered, 
pretending  to  save  her  from  the  stranger,  really  hoping  to  take 
her  for  himself.  His  own  cowardice  and  treachery  neutralized 
the  hope,  and  Charles  Albert,  abject  in  his  disgrace,  took  a  retro 
grade  ministry.  This  the  country  would  not  suffer,  and  obliged 
him  after  a  while  to  reassume  at  least  the  position  of  the  previous 
year,  by  taking  Gioberti  for  his  premier.  But  it  soon  became  evi 
dent  that  the  ministry  of  Charles  Albert  was  in  the  same  position 
as  had  been  that  of  Pius  IX.  The  hand  was  powerless  when 
the  head  was  indisposed.  Meantime  the  name  of  Mazzini  had 
echoed  through  Tuscany  from  the  revered  lips  of  Montanelli ;  it 
reached  the  Roman  States,  and  though  at  first  propagated  by 
foreign  impulse,  yet,  as  soon  as  understood,  was  welcomed  as  con 
genial.  Montanelli  had  nobly  said,  addressing  Florence :  "  We 
could  not  regret  that  the  realization  of  this  project  should  take 
place  in  a  sister  city,  still  more  illustrious  than  ours."  The 
Romans  took  him  at  his  word ;  the  Constitutional  Assembly  for  the 
Roman  States  was  elected  with  a  double  mandate,  that  the  depu 
ties  might  sit  in  the  Constitutional  Assembly  for  all  Italy  when 
ever  the  other  provinces  could  send  theirs.  They  were  elected 
by  universal  suffrage.  Those  who  listened  to  Jesuits  and  Mod 
erates  predicted  that  the  project  would  fail  of  itself.  The  people 
were  too  ignorant  to  make  use  of  the  liberty  of  suffrage. 

But  ravens  now-a-days  are  not  the  true  prophetic  birds.     The 
Roman  eagle  recommences  her  flight,  and  it  is  from  its  direc- 


OPENING    OF   THE   ASSEMBLY.  357 

tion  only  that  the  high-priest  may  draw  his  augury.  The  people 
are  certainly  as  ignorant  as  centuries  of  the  worst  government,  the 
neglect  of  popular  education,  the  enslavement  of  speech  and  the 
press,  could  make  them  ;  yet  they  have  an  instinct  to  recognize 
measures  that  are  good  for  them.  A  few  weeks'  schooling  at  some 
popular  meetings,  the  clubs,  the  conversations  of  the  National 
Guards  in  their  quarters  or  on  patrol,  were  sufficient  to  concert 
measures  so  well,  that  the  people  voted  in  larger  proportion  than 
at  contested  elections  in  our  country,  and  made  a  very  good  choice. 

The  opening  of  the  Constitutional  Assembly  gave  occasion  for 
u  fine  procession.  All  the  troops  in  Rome  defiled  from  the  Cam- 
pidoglio  ;  among  them  many  bear  the  marks  of  suffering  from  the 
Lombard  war.  The  banners  of  Sicily,  Venice,  and  Bologna 
waved  proudly  ;  that  of  Naples  was  veiled  with  crape.  I  was  in 
a  balcony  in  the  Piazza  di  Venezia ;  the  Palazzo  di  Venezia, 
that  sternest  feudal  pile,  so  long  the  head-quarters  of  Austrian 
machinations,  seemed  to  frown,  as  the  bands  each  in  passing  struck 
up  the  Marseillaise.  The  nephew  of  Napoleon  and  Garibaldi,  the 
hero  of  Montevideo,  walked  together,  as  deputies.  The  deputies, 
a  grave  band,  mostly  advocates  or  other  professional  men,  walked 
without  other  badge  of  distinction  than  the  tricolored  scarf.  I  re 
membered  the  entrance  of  the  deputies  to  the  Council  only  four 
teen  months  ago,  in  the  magnificent  carriages  lent  by  the  princes 
for  the  occasion  ;  they  too  were  mostly  nobles,  and  their  liveried 
attendants  followed,  carrying  their  scutcheons.  Princes  and  coun 
cillors  have  both  fled  or  sunk  into  nothingness ;  in  those  council 
lors  was  no  counsel.  Will  it  be  found  in  the  present  ?  Let  us 
hope  so  !  What  we  see  to-day  has  much  more  the  air  of  reality 
than  all  that  parade  of  scutcheons,  or  the  pomp  of  dress  and  retinue 
with  which  the  Ecclesiastical  Court  was  wont  to  amuse  the  people. 

A  few  days  after  followed  the  proclamation  of  a  Republic. 
An  immense  crowd  of  people  surrounded  the  Palazzo  della  Can- 
celleria,  within  whose  court-yard  Rossi  fell,  while  the  debate  was 
going  on  within.  At  one  o'clock  in  the  morning  of  the  9th  of 
February,  a  Republic  was  resolved  upon,  and  the  crowd  rushed 
away  to  ring  all  the  bells. 


858  THINGS    AND    THOUGHTS    IN    EUROPE. 

Early  next  morning  I  rose  and  went  forth  to  observe  the  Repub 
lic.  Over  the  Quirinal  I  went,  through  the  Forum,  to  the  Capitol. 
There  was  nothing  to  be  seen  except  the  magnificent  calm  em 
peror,  the  tamers  of  horses,  the  fountain,  the  trophies,  the  lions,  as 
usual ;  among  the  marbles,  for  living  figures,  a  few  dirty,  bold  wo 
men,  and  Murillo  boys  in  the  sun  just  as  usual.  I  passed  into  the 
Corso ;  there  were  men  in  the  liberty  cap,  —  of  course  the  lowest 
and  vilest  had  been  the  first  to  assume  it ;  all  the  horrible  beggars 
persecuting  as  impudently  as  usual.  I  met  some  English  ;  all 
their  comfort  was,  "  It  would  not  last  a  month."  "  They  hoped 
to  see  all  these  fellows  shot  yet."  The  English  clergyman,  more 
mild  and  legal,  only  hopes  to  see  them  (i.  e.  the  ministry,  deputies, 
&c.)  hung. 

Mr.  Carlyle  would  be  delighted  with  his  countrymen.  They 
are  entirely  ready  and  anxious  to  see  a  Cromwell  for  Italy. 
They,  too,  think,  when  the  people  starve,  "  It  is  no  matter  what 
happens  in  the  back  parlor."  What  signifies  that,  if  there  is 
"  order  "  in  the  front  ?  How  dare  the  people  make  a  noise  to 
disturb  us  yawning  at  billiards  ! 

I  met  an  American.  He  "  had  no  confidence  in  the  Republic." 
Why  ?  Because  he  "  had  no  confidence  in  the  people."  Why  ? 
Because  "  they  were  not  like  our  people."  Ah !  Jonathan  and 
John,  —  excuse  me,  but  I  must  say  the  Italian  has  a  decided  ad 
vantage  over  you  in  the  power  of  quickly  feeling  generous  sym 
pathy,  as  well  as  some  other  things  which  I  have  not  time  now  to 
particularize.  I  have  memoranda  from  you  both  in  my  note 
book. 

At  last  the  procession  mounts  the  Campidoglio.  It  is  all 
dressed  with  banners.  The  tricolor  surmounts  the  palace  of  the 
senator ;  the  senator  himself  has  fled.  The  deputies  mount  the 
steps,  and  one  of  them  reads,  in  a  clear,  friendly  voice,  the  follow 
ing  words  :  — 

"  FUNDAMENTAL    DECREE   OF  THE    CONSTITUTIONAL  ASSEM 
BLY  OF  ROME. 

"  ART.  I.  —  The  Papacy  has  fallen  in  fact  and  in  right  from  the 
temporal  government  of  the  Roman  State. 


INAUGURATION    OF    THE    REPUBLIC.  359 

"  ART.  II.  —  The  Roman  Pontiff  shall  have  all  the  necessnry 
guaranties  for  independence  in  the  exercise  of  his  spiritual  power. 

"  ART.  III.  —  The  form  of  government  of  the  Roman  State 
shall  be  a  pure  democracy,  and  will  take  the  glorious  name  of 
Roman  Republic. 

"  ART.  IV.  —  The  Roman  Republic  shall  have  with  the  rest  of 
Italy  the  relations  exacted  by  a  common  nationality." 

Between  each  of  these  expressive  sentences  the  speaker  paused  ;. 
the  great  bell  of  the  Capitol  gave  forth  its  solemn  melodies  ;  the 
cannon  answered ;  while  the  crowd  shouted,  Viva  la  Republica  ! 
Viva  Italia! 

The  imposing  grandeur  of  the  spectacle  to  me  gave  new  force 
to  the  emotion  that  already  swelled  my  heart ;  my  nerves  thrilled, 
and  I  longed  to  see  in  some  answering  glance  a  spark  of  Rienzi, 
a  little  of  that  soul  which  made  my  country  what  she  is.  The 
American  at  my  side  remained  impassive.  Receiving  all  his 
birthright  from  a  triumph  of  democracy,  he  was  quite  indifferent 
to  this  manifestation  on  this  consecrated  spot.  Passing  the  winter 
in  Rome  to  study  art,  he  was  insensible  to  the  artistic  beauty  of 
the  scene,  —  insensible  to  this  new  life  of  that  spirit  from  which 
all  the  forms  he  gazes  at  in  galleries  emanated.  He  "  did  not  see 
the  use  of  these  popular  demonstrations." 

Again  I  must  mention  a  remark  of  his,  as  a  specimen  of  the 
ignorance  in  which  Americans  usually  remain  during  their  flighty 
visits  to  these  scenes,  where  they  associate  only  with  one  another. 
And  I  do  it  the  rather  as  this  seemed  a  really  thoughtful,  intelli 
gent  man  ;  no  vain,  vulgar  trifler.  He  said,  "  The  people  seem 
only  to  be  looking  on  ;  they  take  no  part." 

What  people  ?  said  I. 

'"  Why,  these  around  us  ;  there  is  no  other  people." 

There  are  a  few  beggars,  errand-boys,  and  nurse-maids. 

"  The  others  are  only  soldiers." 

Soldiers  !     The  Civic  Guard  !  all  the  decent  men  in  Rome. 

Thus  it  is  that  the  American,  on  many  points,  becomes  more 
ignorant  for  coming  abroad,  because  he  attaches  some  value  to  his 


360  THINGS    AND    THOUGHTS    IN    EUROPE. 

crude  impressions  and  frequent  blunders.  It  is  not  thus  that  any 
seed-corn  can  be  gathered  from  foreign  gardens.  "Without  modest 
scrutiny,  patient  study,  and  observation,  he  spends  his  money  and 
goes  home,  with  a  new  coat  perhaps,  but  a  mind  befooled  rather 
than  instructed.  It  is  necessary  to  speak  the  languages  of  these 
countries,  and  know  personally  some  of  their  inhabitants,  in  order 
to  form  any  accurate  impressions. 

The  flight  of  the  Grand  Duke  of  Tuscany  followed.  In  imi 
tation  of  his  great  exemplar,  he  promised  and  smiled  to  the  last, 
deceiving  Montanelli,  the  pure  and  sincere,  at  the  very  moment 
he  was  about  to  enter  his  carriage,  into  the  belief  that  he  perse 
vered  in  his  assent  to  the  liberal  movement.  His  position  was 
certainly  very  difficult,  but  he  might  have  left  it  like  a  gentleman, 
like  a  man  of  honor.  'T  was  pity  to  destroy  so  lightly  the  good 
opinion  the  Tuscans  had  of  him.  Now  Tuscany  meditates  union 
with  Rome. 

Meanwhile,  Charles  Albert  is  filled  with  alarm.  He  is  indeed 
betwixt  two  fires.  Gioberti  has  published  one  of  his  prolix,  weak 
addresses,  in  which  he  says,  that  in  the  beginning  of  every  revo 
lution  one  must  fix  a  limit  beyond  which  he  will  not  go  ;  that,  for 
himself,  he  has  done  it,  —  others  are  passing  beyond  his  mark,  and 
he  will  not  go  any  farther.  Of  the  want  of  thought,  of  insight  into 
historic  and  all  other  truths,  which  distinguishes  the  "  illustrious 
Gioberti,"  this  assumption  is  a  specimen.  But  it  makes  no  differ 
ence  ;  he  and  his  prince  must  go,  sooner  or  later,  if  the  movement 
continues,  nor  is  there  any  prospect  of  its  being  stayed  unless  by 
foreign  intervention.  This  the  Pope  has  not  yet,  it  is  believed, 
solicited,  but  there  is  little  reason  to  hope  he  will  be  spared  that 
crowning  disgrace.  He  has  already  consented  to  the  incitement 
of  civil  war.  Should  an  intervention  be  solicited,  all  depends  on 
France.  Will  she  basely  forfeit  every  pledge  and  every  duty,  to 
say  nothing  of  her  true  interest  ?  It  seems  that  her  President 
stands  doubtful,  intending  to  do  what  is  for  his  particular  interest ; 
but  if  his  interest  proves  opposed  to  the  republican  principle,  will 
France  suffer  herself  again  to  be  hoodwinked  and  enslaved  ?  It 
is  impossible  to  know,  she  has  already  shown  such  devotion  to  the 
mere  prestige  of  a  name. 


SYMPATHY   HOPED    FROM   AMERICA.  361 

On  England  no  dependence  can  be  placed.  She  is  guided  by 
no  great  idea ;  her  Parliamentary  leaders  sneer  at  sentimental 
policy,  and  the  "jargon  "  of  ideas.  She  will  act,  as  always,  for 
her  own  interest ;  and  the  interest  of  her  present  government  is 
becoming  more  and  more  the  crushing  of  the  democratic  tendency. 
They  are  obliged  to  do  it  at  home,  both  in  the  back  and  the  front 
parlor ;  it  would  not  be  decent  as  yet  to  have  a  Spielberg  just  at 
home  for  obstreperous  patriots,  but  England  has  so  many  ships,  it 
is  just  as  easy  to  transport  them  to  a  safe  distance.  Then  the 
Church  of  England,  so  long  an  enemy  to  the  Church  of  Rome, 
feels  a  decided  interest  with  it  on  the  subject  of  temporal  posses 
sions.  The  rich  English  traveller,  fearing  to  see  the  Prince 
Borghese  stripped  of  one  of  his  palaces  for  a  hospital  or  some 
such  low  use,  thinks  of  his  own  twenty-mile  park  and  the  crowded 
village  of  beggars  at  its  gate,  and  muses :  "  I  hope  to  see  them  all 
shot  yet,  these  rascally  republicans." 

How  I  wish  my  country  would  show  some  noble  sympathy 
when  an  experience  so  like  her  own  is  going  on.  Politically  she 
cannot  interfere  ;  but  formerly,  when  Greece  and  Poland  were 
struggling,  they  were  at  least  aided  by  private  contributions. 
Italy,  naturally  so  rich,  but  long  racked  and  impoverished  by  her 
oppressors,  greatly  needs  money  to  arm  and  clothe  her  troops. 
Some  token  of  sympathy,  too,  from  America  would  be  so  welcome 
to  her  now.  If  there  were  a  circle  of  persons  inclined  to  trust 
such  to  me,  I  might  venture  to  promise  the  trust  should  be  used 
to  the  advantage  of  Italy.  It  would  make  me  proud  to  have  my 
country  show  a  religious  faith  in  the  progress  of  ideas,  and  make 
some  small  sacrifice  of  its  own  great  resources  in  aid  of  a  sister 
cause,  now. 

But  I  must  close  this  letter,  which  it  would  be  easy  to  swell  to 
a  volume  from  the  materials  in  my  mind.  One  or  two  traits  of 
the  hour  I  must  note.  Mazzarelli,  chief  of  the  present  ministry, 
was  a  prelate,  and  named  spontaneously  by  the  Pope  before  his 
flight.  He  has  shown  entire  and  frank  intrepidity.  He  has  laid 
aside  the  title  of  Monsignor,  and  appears  before  the  world  as  a 
layman. 

31 


362  THINGS    AND    THOUGHTS    IN    EUROPE. 

Nothing  can  be  more  tranquil  than  has  been  the  state  of  Rome 
all  winter.  Every  wile  has  been  used  by  the  Oscurantists  to 
excite  the  people,  but  their  confidence  in  their  leaders  could  not 
"be  broken.  A  little  mutiny  in  the  troops,  stimulated  by  letters 
from  their  old  leaders,  was  quelled  in  a  moment.  The  day  after 
the  proclamation  of  the  Republic,  some  zealous  ignoramuses  in 
sulted  the  carriages  that  appeared  with  servants  in  livery.  The 
ministry  published  a  grave  admonition,  that  democracy  meant 
liberty,  not  license,  and  that  he  who  infringed  upon  an  innocent 
freedom  of  action  in  others  must  be  declared  traitor  to  his  coun 
try.  Every  act  of  the  kind  ceased  instantly.  An  intimation  that 
it  was  better  not  to  throw  large  comfits  or  oranges  during  the 
Carnival,  as  injuries  have  thus  been  sometimes  caused,  was  obeyed 
with  equal  docility. 

On  Sunday  last,  placards  affixed  in  the  high  places  summoned 
the  city  to  invest  Giuseppe  Mazzini  with  the  rights  of  a  Roman 
citizen.  I  have  not  yet  heard  the  result.  The  Pope  made  Rossi 
a  Roman  citizen  ;  he  was  suffered  to  retain  that  title  only  one 
day.  It  was  given  him  on  the  14th  of  November,  he  died  the  loth. 
Mazzini  enters  Rome  at  any  rate,  for  the  first  time  in  his  life,  as 
deputy  to  the  Constitutional  Assembly  ;  it  would  be  a  noble  poetic 
justice,  if  he  could  enter  also  as  a  Roman  citizen. 

February  24. 

The  Austrians  have  invaded  Ferrara,  taken  $  200,000  and  six 
hostages,  and  retired.  This  step  is,  no  doubt,  intended  to  deter 
mine  whether  France  will  resent  the  insult,  or  whether  she  will 
betray  Italy.  It  shows  also  the  assurance  of  the  Austrian  that 
the  Pope  will  approve  of  an  armed  intervention.  Probably  be 
fore  I  write  again  these  matters  will  reach  some  decided  crisis. 


LETTER    XXIX. 

The  Koman  Republic.  —  Charles  Albert  a  Traitor.  —  Fall  of  Gioberti.  —  Mazzini. 
—  His  Character.  —  His  Address  to  the  People.  —  His  Oratory.  —  American 
Artists.  —  Brown,  Terry,  and  Freeman. — Hicks  and  his  Pictures.  —  Cropsey 
and  Cranch  contrasted.  —  American  Landscape  Paintings.  —  Sculptors.  — 
Story's  "Fisher  Boy."  —  Mozier's  "  Pocahontas."  —  Greenough's  Group. — 
Powers's  "  Slave."  —  The  Equestrian  Statue  of  Washington.  —  Crawford's  De 
sign.  —  Trials  of  the  Artist.  —  American  Patrons  of  Art.  —  Expenses  of  Artist 
Life.  —  A  German  Sculptor.  —  Overbeck  and  his  Paintings.  —  Festival  of  Fried 
Rice.  —  An  Ave  Maria. 

Rome,  March  20,  1849. 

THE  Roman  Republic  moves  on  better  than  could  have  been 
expected.  There  are  great  difficulties  about  money,  necessarily, 
as  the  government,  so  beset  with  trials  and  dangers,  cannot  com 
mand  confidence  in  that  respect.  The  solid  coin  has  crept  out 
of  the  country  or  lies  hid,  and  in  the  use  of  paper  there  are  the 
corresponding  inconveniences.  But  the  poor,  always  the  chief  suf 
ferers  from  such  a  state  of  things,  are  wonderfully  patient,  and  I 
doubt  not  that  the  new  form,  if  Italy  could  be  left  to  itself,  would 
be  settled  for  the  advantage  of  all.  Tuscany  would  soon  be  unit 
ed  with  Rome,  and  to  the  Republic  of  Central  Italy,  no  longer 
broken  asunder  by  petty  restrictions  and  sacrificed  to  the  interests 
of  a  few  persons,  would  come  that  prosperity  natural  to  a  region 
so  favored  by  nature. 

Could  Italy  be  left  alone  !  But  treacherous,  selfish  men  at  home 
strive  to  betray,  and  foes  threaten  her  from  without  on  every 
side.  Even  France,  her  natural  ally,  promises  to  prove  foolishly 
and  basely  faithless.  The  dereliction  from  principle  of  her  gov 
ernment  seems  certain,  and  thus  far  the  nation,  despite  the  re 
monstrance  of  a  few  worthy  men,  gives  no  sign  of  effective  protest. 


364  THINGS    AND    THOUGHTS    IN    EUROPE. 

There  would  be  little  hope  for  Italy,  were  not  the  thrones  of  her 
foes  in  a  tottering  state,  their  action  liable  at  every  moment  to  be 
distracted  by  domestic  difficulties.  The  Austrian  government 
seems  as  destitute  of  support  from  the  nation  as  is  possible  for  a 
government  to  be,  and  the  army  is  no  longer  what  it  was,  being 
made  up  so  largely  of  new  recruits.  The  Croats  are  uncertain 
in  their  adhesion,  the  war  in  Hungary  likely  to  give  them  much 
to  do ;  and  if  the  Russian  is  called  in,  the  rest  of  Europe  becomes 
hostile.  All  these  circumstances  give  Italy  a  chance  she  other 
wise  could  not  have;  she  is  in  great  measure  unfurnished  with  arms 
and  money  ;  her  king  in  the  South  is  a  bloody,  angry,  well-armed 
foe  ;  her  king  in  the  North,  a  proved  traitor.  Charles  Albert  has 
now  declared  war  because  he  could  not  do  otherwise  ;  but  his 
sympathies  are  in  fact  all  against  liberty ;  the  splendid  lure  that 
he  might  become  king  of  Italy  glitters  no  more ;  the  Republicans 
are  in  the  ascendant,  and  he  may  well  doubt,  should  the  stranger 
be  driven  out,  whether  Piedmont  could  escape  the  contagion. 
Now,  his  people  insisting  on  war,  he  has  the  air  of  making  it  with 
a  good  grace ;  but  should  he  be  worsted,  probably  he  will  know 
some  loophole  by  which  to  steal  out.  The  rat  will  get  out  and 
leave  the  lion  in  the  trap. 

The  "  illustrious  Gioberti "  has  fallen,  —  fallen  for  ever  from  his 
high  scaffold  of  words.  His  demerits  were  too  unmistakable  for 
rhetoric  to  hide.  That  he  sympathized  with  the  Pope  rather  than 
the  Roman  people,  and  could  not  endure  to  see  him  stripped  of 
his  temporal  power,  no  one  could  blame  in  the  author  of  the 
Primato.  That  he  refused  the  Italian  General  Assembly,  if  it 
was  to  be  based  on  the  so-called  Montanelli  system  instead  of  his 
own,  might  be  conviction,  or  it  might  be  littleness  and  vanity. 
But  that  he  privily  planned,  without  even  adherence  of  the  coun 
cil  of  ministers,  an  armed  intervention  of  the  Piedmontese  troops 
in  Tuscany,  thus  willing  to  cause  civil  war,  and,  at  this  great  mo 
ment,  to  see  Italian  blood  shed  by  Italian  hands,  was  treachery. 
I  think,  indeed,  he  has  been  probably  made  the  scape-goat  in  that 
affair;  that  Charles  Albert  planned  the  measure,  and,  finding 
himself  unable  to  carry  it  out,  in  consequence  of  the  vigilance  and 


MAZZINI.  365 

indignant  opposition  of  the  Chamber  of  Deputies,  was  somewhat 
consoled  by  making  it  an  occasion  to  victimize  the  "  Illustrious," 
whom  four  weeks  before  the  people  had  forced  him  to  accept  as 
his  minister. 

Now  the  name  of  Gioberti  is  erased  from  the  corners  of  the 
streets  to  which  it  was  affixed  a  year  ago ;  he  is  stripped  of  all 
his  honorary  degrees,  and  proclaimed  an  unworthy  son  of  the 
country.  Mazzini  is  the  idol  of  the  people.  "  Soon  to  be  hunted 
out,"  sneered  the  sceptical  American.  Possibly  yes  ;  for  no  man 
is  secure  of  his  palm  till  the  fight  is  over.  The  civic  wreath  may 
be  knocked  from  his  head  a  hundred  times  in  the  ardor  of  the 
contest.  No  matter,  if  he  can  always  keep  the  forehead  pure  and 
lofty,  as  will  Mazzini. 

In  thinking  of  Mazzini,  I  always  remember  Petrarch's  invoca 
tion  to  Rienzi.  Mazzini  comes  at  a  riper  period  in  the  world's 
history,  with  the  same  energy  of  soul,  but  of  purer  temper  and 
more  enlarged  views  to  answer  them. 

I  do  not  know  whether  I  mentioned  a  kind  of  poetical  corre 
spondence  about  Mazzini  and  Rossi.  Rossi  was  also  an  exile  for 
liberal  principles,  but  he  did  not  value  his  birthright ;  he  alienated 
it,  and  as  a  French  citizen  became  peer  of  France  and  represent 
ative  of  Louis  Philippe  in  Italy.  When,  with  the  fatuity  of  those 
whom  the  gods  have  doomed  to  perish,  Pius  IX.  took  the  repre 
sentative  of  the  fallen  Guizot  policy  for  his  minister,  he  made 
him  a  Roman  citizen.  He  was  proclaimed  such  on  the  14th  of 
November.  On  the  15th  he  perished,  before  he  could  enter  the 
parliament  he  had  called.  He  fell  at  the  door  of  the  Cancelleria 
when  it  was  sitting. 

Mazzini,  in  his  exile,  remained  absolutely  devoted  to  his  native 
country.  Because,  though  feeling  as  few  can  that  the  interests 
of  humanity  in  all  nations  are  identical,  he  felt  also  that,  born  of  a 
race  so  suffering,  so  much  needing  devotion  and  energy,  his  first 
duty  was  to  that.  The  only  powers  he  acknowledged  were  God 
and  the  People,  the  special  scope  of  his  acts  the  unity  and  inde 
pendence  of  Italy.  Rome  was  the  theme  of  his  thoughts,  but, 
very  early  exiled,  he  had  never  seen  that  home  to  which  all  the 
31* 


366  THINGS    AND    THOUGHTS    IN    EUROPE. 

orphans  of  the  soul  so  naturally  turn.  Now  he  entered  it  as  a 
Roman  citizen,  elected  representative  of  the  people  by  universal 
suffrage.  His  motto,  Dio  e  Popolo,  is  put  upon  the  coin  with  the 
Roman  eagle  ;  unhappily  this  first-issued  coin  is  of  brass,  or  else 
of  silver,  with  much  alloy.  Dii,  avertite  omen,  and  may  peaceful 
days  turn  it  all  to  pure  gold  ! 

On  his  first  entrance  to  the  house,  Mazzini,  received  with  fer 
vent  applause  and  summoned  to  take  his  place  beside  the  Presi 
dent,  spoke  as  follows  :  — 

"  It  is  from  me,  colleagues,  that  should  come  these  tokens  of 
applause,  these  tokens  of  affection,  because  the  little  good  I  have 
not  done,  but  tried  to  do,  has  come  to  me  from  Rome.  Rome  was 
always  a  sort  of  talisman  for  me ;  a  youth,  I  studied  the  history 
of  Italy,  and  found,  while  all  the  other  nations  were  born,  grew 
up,  played  their  part  in  the  world,  then  fell  to  reappear  no  more 
in  the  same  power,  a  single  city  was  privileged  by  God  to  die 
only  to  rise  again  greater  than  before,  to  fulfil  a  mission  greater 
than  the  first.  I  saw  the  Rome  of  the  Empire  extend  her  con 
quests  from  the  confines  of  Africa  to  the  confines  of  Asia.  I  saw 
Rome  perish,  crushed  by  the  barbarians,  by  those  whom  even  yet 
the  world  calls  barbarians.  I  saw  her  rise  again,  after  having 
chased  away  these  same  barbarians,  reviving  in  its  sepulchre  the 
germ  of  Civilization.  I  saw  her  rise  more  great  for  conquest,  not 
with  arms,  but  with  words,  —  rise  in  the  name  of  the  Popes  to 
repeat  her  grand  mission.  I  said  in  my  heart,  the  city  which 
alone  in  the  world  has  had  two  grand  lives,  one  greater  than  the 
other,  will  have  a  third.  After  the  Rome  which  wrought  by  con 
quest  of  arms,  the  Rome  which  wrought  by  conquest  of  words, 
must  come  a  third  which  shall  work  by  virtue  of  example.  After 
the  Rome  of  the  Emperors,  after  the  Rome  of  the  Popes,  will 
come  the  Rome  of  the  People.  The  Rome  of  the  People  is 
arisen ;  do  not  salute  with  applauses,  but  let  us  rejoice  together ! 
I  cannot  promise  anything  for  myself,  except  concurrence  in  all 
you  shall  do  for  the  good  of  Rome,  of  Italy,  of  mankind.  Per 
haps  we  shall  have  to  pass  through  great  crises ;  perhaps  we  shall 
have  to  fight  a  sacred  battle  against  the  only  enemy  that  threatens 


ADDRESS    OF   MAZZINI.  367 

us,  —  Austria.  We  will  fight  it,  and  we  will  conquer.  I  hope, 
please  God,  that  foreigners  may  not  be  able  to  say  any  more  that 
which  so  many  of  them  repeat  to-day,  speaking  of  our  affairs,  — 
that  the  light  which  comes  from  Rome  is  only  an  ignis  fatuus 
wandering  among  the  tombs.  The  world  shall  see  that  it  is  a 
starry  light,  eternal,  pure,  and  resplendent  as  those  we  look 
up  to  in  the  heavens  ! " 

On  a  later  day  he  spoke  more  fully  of  the  difficulties  that 
threaten  at  home  the  young  republic,  and  said :  — 

"  Let  us  not  hear  of  Right,  of  Left,  of  Centre  ;  these  terms  ex 
press  the  three  powers  in  a  constitutional  monarchy ;  for  us  they 
have  no  meaning ;  the  only  divisions  for  us  are  of  Republicans  or 
non-Republicans,  —  or  of  sincere  men  and  temporizing  men.  Let 
us  not  hear  so  much  of  the  Republicans  of  to-day  and  of  yesterday ; 
I  am  a  Republican  of  twenty  years'  standing.  Entertaining  such 
hopes  for  Italy,  when  many  excellent,  many  sincere  men  held 
them  as  Utopian,  shall  I  denounce  these  men  because  they  are 
now  convinced  of  their  practicability  ?  " 

This  last  I  quote  from  memory.  In  hearing  the  gentle  tone  of 
remonstrance  with  those  of  more  petty  mind,  or  influenced  by  the 
passions  of  the  partisan,  I  was  forcibly  reminded  of  the  parable 
by  Jesus,  of  the  vineyard  and  the  discontent  of  the  laborers  that 
those  who  came  at  the  eleventh  hour  "  received  also  a  penny." 
Mazzini  also  is  content  that  all  should  fare  alike  as  brethren,  if 
only  they  will  come  into  the  vineyard.  He  is  not  an  orator,  but 
the  simple  conversational  tone  of  his  address  is  in  refreshing  con 
trast  with  the  boyish  rhetoric  and  academic  swell  common  to  Ital 
ian  speakers  in  the  present  unfledged  state.  As  they  have  freer 
use  of  the  power  of  debate,  they  will  become  more  simple  and 
manly.  The  speech  of  Mazzini  is  laden  with  thought,  —  it  goes 
straight  to  the  mark  by  the  shortest  path,  and  moves  without  effort, 
from  the  irresistible  impression  of  deep  conviction  and  fidelity  in 
the  speaker.  Mazzini  is  a  man  of  genius,  an  elevated  thinker ; 
but  the  most  powerful  and  first  impression  from  his  presence  must 
always  be  of  the  religion  of  his  soul,  of  his  virtue,  both  in  the 
modern  and  antique  sense  of  that  word. 


3G8  THINGS    AND    THOUGHTS    IN    EUROPE. 

If  clearness  of  right,  if  energy,  if  indefatigable  perseverance, 
can  steer  the  ship  through  this  dangerous  pass,  it  will  be  done. 
He  said,  "  We  will  conquer  "  ;  whether  Rome  will,  this  time,  is  not 
to  me  certain,  but  such  men  as  Mazzini  conquer  always,  —  con- 
>  quer  in  defeat.  Yet  Heaven  grant  that  no  more  blood,  no  more 
corruption  of  priestly  government,  be  for  Italy.  It  could  only  be 
for  once  more,  for  the  strength  of  her  present  impulse  would  not 
fail  to  triumph  at  last;  but  even  one  more  trial  seems  too  intol 
erably  much,  when  I  think  of  the  holocaust  of  the  broken  hearts, 
baffled  lives,  that  must  attend  it 

But  enough  of  politics  for  the  present ;  this  letter  goes  by  pri 
vate  hand,  and,  as  news,  will  be  superseded  before  it  can  arrive. 

Let  me  rather  take  the  opportunity  to  say  some  things  that  I 
have  let  lie  by,  while  writing  of  political  events.  Especially  of 
our  artists  I  wish  to  say  something.  I  know  many  of  them,  if 
not  all,  and  see  with  pleasure  our  young  country  so  fairly  rep 
resented. 

Among  the  painters  I  saw  of  Brown  only  two  or  three  pictures 
at  the  exhibition  in  Florence  ;  they  were  coarse,  flashy  things.  I 
was  told  he  could  do  better ;  but  a  man  who  indulges  himself  with 
such  coarse  sale-work  cannot  surely  do  well  at  any  time. 

The  merits  of  Terry  and  Freeman  are  not  my  merits ;  they  are 
beside  both  favorites  in  our  country,  and  have  a  sufficient  number 
of  pictures  there  for  every  one  to  judge.  I  am  no  connoisseur  as 
regards  the  technical  merits  of  paintings  ;  it  is  only  poetic  inven 
tion,  or  a  tender  feeling  of  nature,  which  captivates  me. 

Terry  loves  grace,  and  consciously  works  from  the  model. 
The  result  is  a  pleasing  transposition  of  the  hues  of  this  clime. 
But  the  design  of  the  picture  is  never  original,  nor  is  it  laden 
with  any  message  from  the  heart.  Of  Freeman  I  know  less  ;  as 
the  two  or  three  pictures  of  his  that  I  have  seen  never  interested 
me.  I  have  not  visited  his  studio. 

^  Of  Hicks  I  think  very  highly.  He  is  a  man  of  ideas,  an  origi 
nal  observer,  and  with  a  poetic  heart.  His  system  of  coloring  is 
derived  from  a  thoughtful  study,  not  a  mere  imitation  of  nature, 
and  shows  the  fineness  of  his  organization.  Struggling  unaided 


AMERICAN    ARTISTS.  389 

to  pursue  the  expensive  studies  of  his  art,  he  has  had  only  a 
finiall  studio,  and  received  only  orders  for  little  cabinet  pictures. 
Could  he  carry  out  adequately  his  ideas,  in  him  would  be  found 
the  treasure  of  genius.  He  has  made  the  drawings  for  a  large 
picture  of  many  figures  ;  the  design  is  original  and  noble,  the 
grouping  highly  effective.  Could  he  paint  this  picture,  I  believe 
it  would  be  a  real  boon  to  the  lovers  of  art,  the  lovers  of  truth.  I 
hope  very  much  that,  when  he  returns  to  the  United  States,  some 
competent  patron  of  art  —  one  of  the  few  who  have  mind  as  well 
as  purse  —  will  see  the  drawings  and  order  the  picture.  Other 
wise  he  cannot  paint  it,  as  the  expenses  attendant  on  models  for 
so  many  figures,  &c.  are  great,  and  the  time  demanded  could  not 
otherwise  be  taken  from  the  claims  of  the  day. 

Among  landscape  painters  Cropsey  and  Cranch  have  the  true 
artist  spirit.  In  faculties,  each  has  what  the  other  wants.  Crop 
sey  is  a  reverent  and  careful  student  of  nature  in  detail ;  it  is  no 
pedantry,  but  a  true  love  he  has,  and  his  pictures  are  full  of  little, 
gentle  signs  of  intimacy.  They  please  and  touch  ;  but  yet  in  poetic 
feeling  of  the  heart  of  nature  he  is  not  equal  to  Cranch,  who  pro 
duces  fine  effects  by  means  more  superficial,  and,  on  examination, 
less  satisfactory.  Each  might  take  somewhat  from  the  other  to 
advantage,  could  he  do  it  without  diminishing  his  own  original 
dower.  Both  are  artists  of  high  promise,  and  deserve  to  be  loved 
and  cherished  by  a  country  which  may,  without  presumption,  hope 
to  carry  landscape  painting  to  a  pitch  of  excellence  unreached 
before.  For  the  historical  painter,  the  position  with  us  is,  for 
many  reasons,  not  favorable  ;  but  there  is  no  bar  in  the  way  of  the 
landscape  painter,  and  fate,  bestowing  such  a  prodigality  of  sub 
ject,  seems  to  give  us  a  hint  not  to  be  mistaken.  I  think  the 
love  of  landscape  painting  is  genuine  in  our  nation,  and  as  it  is  a 
branch  of  art  where  achievement  has  been  comparatively  low,  we 
may  not  unreasonably  suppose  it  has  been  left  for  us.  I  trust  it 
will  be  undertaken  in  the  highest  spirit.  Nature,  it  seems  to  me, 
.reveals  herself  more  freely  in  our  land ;  she  is  true,  virgin,  and 
confiding,  —  she  smiles  upon  the  vision  of  a  true  Endymion.  I 
hope  to  see,  not  only  copies  upon  canvas  of  our  magnificent  scenes, 
but  a  transfusion  of  the  spirit  which  is  their  divinity. 


370  THINGS    AND    THOUGHTS    IN    EUROPE. 

Then  why  should  the  American  landscape  painter  come  to 
Italy  ?  cry  many.  I  think,  myself,  he  ought  not  to  stay  here 
very  long.  Yet  a  few  years'  study  is  precious,  for  here  Nature 
herself  has  worked  with  man,  as  if  she  wanted  to  help  him  in  the 
composition  of  pictures.  The  ruins  of  Italy,  in  their  varied  rela 
tions  with  vegetation  and  the  heavens,  make  speeches  from  every 
stone  for  instruction  of  the  artist;  the  greatest  variety  here  is 
found  with  the  greatest  harmony.  To  know  how  this  union  may  be 
accomplished  is  a  main  secret  of  art,  and  though  the  coloring  is 
not  the  same,  yet  he  who  has  the  key  to  its  mysteries  of  beauty 
is  the  more  initiated  to  the  same  in  other  climates,  and  will  easily 
attune  afresh  his  more  instructed  eye  and  mind  to  the  contem 
plation  of  that  which  moulded  his  childhood. 

I  may  observe  of  the  two  artists  I  have  named,  that  Cranch 
has  entered  more  into  the  spirit  of  Italian  landscape,  while  Crop- 
sey  is  still  more  distinguished  on  subjects  such  as  he  first  loved. 
He  seemed  to  find  the  Scotch  lake  and  mountain  scenery  very 
congenial ;  his  sketches  and  pictures  taken  from  a  short  residence 
there  are  impressive.  Perhaps  a  melancholy  or  tender  subject 
suits  him  best ;  something  rich,  bold,  and  mellow  is  more  adapted 
to  call  out  the  genius  of  Cranch. 

Among  the  sculptors  new  names  rise  up,  to  show  that  this  is 
decidedly  a  province  for  hope  in  America.  I  look  upon  this  as  the 
natural  talent  of  an  American,  and  have  no  doubt  that  glories  will 
be  displayed  by  our  sculptors  unknown  to  classic  art.  The  facts 
of  our  history,  ideal  and  social,  will  be  grand  and  of  new  import ; 
it  is  perfectly  natural  to  the  American  to  mould  in  clay  and  carve 
in  stone.  The  permanence  of  material  and  solid  relief  in  the 
forms  correspond  to  the  positiveness  of  his  nature  better  than  the 
mere  ephemeral  and  even  tricky  methods  of  the  painter,  —  to  his 
need  of  motion  and  action,  better  than  the  chambered  scribbling  of 
the  poet.  He  will  thus  record  his  best  experiences,  and  these 
records  will  adorn  the  noble  structures  that  must  naturally  arise 
for  the  public  uses  of  our  society. 

It  is  particularly  gratifying  to  see  men  that  might  amass  far 
more  money  and  attain  more  temporary  power  in  other  things, 


SCULPTORS.  371 

despise  those  lower  lures,  too  powerful  in  our  country,  and  aim 
only  at  excellence  in  the  expression  of  thought.  Among  these  I 
may  mention  Story  and  Mozier.  Story  has  made  in  Florence 
the  model  for  a  statue  of  his  father.  This  I  have  not  seen,  but 
two  statuettes  that  he  modelled  here  from  the  "  Fisher  "  of  Goethe 
pleased  me  extremely.  The  languid,  meditative  reverie  of  the  boy, 
the  morbid  tenderness  of  his  nature,  is  most  happily  expressed  in 
the  first,  as  is  the  fascinated  surrender  to  the  siren  murmur  of  the 
flood  in  the  second.  He  has  taken  the  moment 

"  Half  drew  she  him;  half  sank  he  in,"  &c. 

I  hope  some  one  will  give  him  an  order  to  make  them  in  mar 
ble.  Mozier  seemed  to  have  an  immediate  success.  The  fidelity 
and  spirit  of  his  portrait-busts  could  be  appreciated  by  every  one ; 
for  an  ideal  head  of  Pocahontas,  too,  he  had  at  once  orders  for 
many  copies.  It  was  not  an  Indian  head,  but,  in  the  union  of 
sweetness  and  strength  with  a  princelike,  childlike  dignity,  very 
happily  expressive  of  his  idea  of  her  character.  I  think  he  has 
modelled  a  Rebecca  at  the  Well,  but  this  I  did  not  see. 

These  have  already  a  firm  hold  on  the  affections  of  our  people ; 
every  American  who  comes  to  Italy  visits  their  studios,  and  speaks 
of  them  with  pride,  as  indeed  they  well  may,  in  comparing  them 
with  artists  of  other  nations.  It  will  not  be  long  before  you  see 
Greenough's  group  ;  it  is  in  spirit  a  pendant  to  Cooper's  novels. 
I  confess  I  wish  he  had  availed  himself  of  the  opportunity  to  im 
mortalize  the  real  noble  Indian  in  marble.  This  is  only  the  man 
of  the  woods,  —  no  Metamora,  no  Uncas.  But  the  group  should 
be  very  instructive  to  our  people. 

You  seem  as  crazy  about  Powers's  Greek  Slave  as  the  Flor 
entines  were  about  Cimabue's  Madonnas,  in  which  we  still  see  the 
spark  of  genius,  but  not  fanned  to  its  full  flame.  If  your  enthu 
siasm  be  as  genuine  as  that  of  the  lively  Florentines,  we  will  not 
quarrel  with  it ;  but  I  am  afraid  a  great  part  is  drawing-room 
rapture  and  newspaper  echo.  Genuine  enthusiasm,  however 
crude  the  state  of  mind  from  which  it  springs,  always  elevates, 
always  educates ;  but  in  the  same  proportion  talking  and  writing 


372  THINGS    AND    THOUGHTS    IN    EUROPE. 

for  effect  stultifies  and  debases.  I  shall  not  judge  the  adorers  of 
the  Greek  Slave,  but  only  observe,  that  they  have  not  kept  in 
reserve  any  higher  admiration  for  works  even  now  extant,  which 
are,  in  comparison  with  that  statue,  what  that  statue  is  compared 
with  any  weeping  marble  on  a  common  monument. 

I  consider  the  Slave  as  a  form  of  simple  and  sweet  beauty,  but 
that  neither  as  an  ideal  expression  nor  a  specimen  of  plastic  power 
is  it  transcendent.  Powers  stands  far  higher  in  his  busts  than  in 
any  ideal  statue.  His  conception  of  what  is  individual  in  charac 
ter  is  clear  and  just,  his  power  of  execution  almost  unrivalled  ; 
but  he  has  had  a  lifetime  of  discipline  for  the  bust,  while  his 
studies  on  the  human  body  are  comparatively  limited ;  nor  is  his 
treatment  of  it  free  and  masterly.  To  me,  his  conception  of  sub 
ject  is  not  striking :  I  do  not  consider  him  rich  in  artistic  thought. 

He,  no  less  than  Greenough  and  Crawford,  would  feel  it  a  rich 
reward  for  many  labors,  and  a  happy  climax  to  their  honors,  to 
make  an  equestrian  statue  of  Washington  for  our  country.  I 
wish  they  might  all  do  it,  as  each  would  show  a  different  kind  of 
excellence.  To  present  the  man  on  horseback,  the  wise  centaur, 
the  tamer  of  horses,  may  well  be  deemed  a  high  achievement 
of  modern,  as  it  was  of  ancient  art.  The  study  of  the  anatomy 
and  action  of  the  horse,  so  rich  in  suggestions,  is  naturally  most 
desirable  to  the  artist ;  happy  he  who,  obliged  by  the  brevity  of 
life  and  the  limitations  of  fortune,  to  make  his  studies  conform  to 
his  "  orders,"  finds  himself  justified  by  a  national  behest  in  enter 
ing  on  this  department. 

At  home  one  gets  callous  about  the  character  of  Washington, 
from  a  long  experience  of  Fourth  of  July  bombast  in  his  praise. 
But  seeing  the  struggles  of  other  nations,  and  the  deficiencies  of 
the  leaders  who  try  to  sustain  them,  the  heart  is  again  stimulated, 
and  puts  forth  buds  of  praise.  One  appreciates  the  wonderful 
combination  of  events  and  influences  that  gave  our  independence 
so  healthy  a  birth,  and  the  almost  miraculous  merits  of  the  men 
who  tended  its  first  motions.  In  the  combination  of  excellences 
needed  at  such  a  period  with  the  purity  and  modesty  which  dig 
nify  the  private  man  in  the  humblest  station,  Washington  as  yet 


CRAWFORD'S  WASHINGTON.  373 

stands  alone.  No  country  has  ever  had  such  a  good  future ;  no 
other  is  so  happy  as  to  have  a  pattern  of  spotless  worth  which  will 
remain  in  her  latest  day  venerable  as  now. 

Surely,  then,  that  form  should  be  immortalized  in  material  solid 
as  its  fame ;  and,  happily  for  the  artist,  that  form  was  of  natural 
beauty  and  dignity,  and  he  who  places  him  on  horseback  simply 
represents  his  habitual  existence.  Everything  concurs  to  make 
an  equestrian  statue  of  Washington  desirable. 

The  dignified  way  to  manage  that  affair  would  be  to  have  a 
committee  chosen  of  impartial  judges,  men  who  would  look  only 
to  the  merits  of  the  work  and  the  interests  of  the  country,  unbi 
assed  by  any  personal  interest  in  favor  of  some  one  artist.  It  is 
said  it  is  impossible  to  find  such  a  committee,  but  I  cannot  believe 
it.  Let  there  be  put  aside  the  mean  squabbles  and  jealousies,  the 
vulgar  pushing  of  unworthy  friends,  with  which,  unhappily,  the 
artist's  career  seems  more  rife  than  any  other,  and  a  fair  concur 
rence  established ;  let  each  artist  offer  his  design  for  an  equestrian 
statue  of  Washington,  and  let  the  best  have  the  preference. 

Mr.  Crawford  has  made  a  design  which  he  takes  with  him  to 
America,  and  which,  I  hope,  will  be  generally  seen.  He  has 
represented  Washington  in  his  actual  dress ;  a  figure  of  Fame, 
winged,  presents  the  laurel  and  civic  wreath ;  his  gesture  declines 
them  ;  he  seems  to  say,  "  For  me  the  deed  is  enough,  —  I  need 
no  badge,  no  outward  token  in  reward." 

This  group  has  no  insipid,  allegorical  air,  as  might  be  supposed  ; 
and  its  composition  is  very  graceful,  simple,  and  harmonious. 
The  costume  is  very  happily  managed.  The  angel  figure  is 
draped,  and  with  the  liberty-cap,  which,  as  a  badge  both  of  an 
cient  and  modern  times,  seems  to  connect  the  two  figures,  and  in 
an  artistic  point  of  view  balances  well  the  cocked  hat ;  there  is  a 
similar  harmony  between  the  angel's  wings  and  the  extremities  of 
the  horse.  The  action  of  the  winged  figure  induces  a  natural  and 
spirited  action  of  the  horse  and  rider.  I  thought  of  Goethe's  re 
mark,  that  a  fine  work  of  art  will  always  have,  at  a  distance, 
where  its  details  cannot  be  discerned,  a  beautiful  effect,  as  of 
architectural  ornament,  and  that  this  excellence  the  groups  of 
32 


374  THINGS    AND    THOUGHTS    IN    EUROPE. 

Raphael  share  with  the  antique.  He  would  have  been  pleased 
with  the  beautiful  balance  of  forms  in  this  group,  with  the  free 
dom  with  which  light  and  air  play  in  and  out,  the  management  of 
the  whole  being  clear  and  satisfactory  at  the  first  glance.  But 
one  should  go  into  a  great  number  of  studies,  as  you  can  in  Rome 
or  Florence,  and  see  the  abundance  of  heavy  and  inharmonious  de 
signs  to  appreciate  the  merits  of  this  ;  anything  really  good  seems 
so  simple  and  so  a  matter  of  course  to  the  unpractised  observer. 

Some  say  the  Americans  will  not  want  a  group,  but  just  the 
fact ;  the  portrait  of  Washington  riding  straight  onward,  like  Mar 
cus  Aurelius,  or  making  an  address,  or  lifting  his  sword.  I  do 
not  know  about  that,  —  it  is  a  matter  of  feeling.  This  winged 
figure  not  only  gives  a  poetic  sense  to  the  group,  but  a  natural 
support  and  occasion  for  action  to  the  horse  and  rider.  Uncle 
Sam  must  send  Major  Downing  to  look  at  it,  and  then,  if  he  wants 
other  designs,  let  him  establish  a  concurrence,  as  I  have  said,  and 
choose  what  is  best.  I  am  not  particularly  attached  to  Mr. 
Greenough,  Mr.  Powers,  or  Mr.  Crawford.  I  admire  various 
excellences  in  the  works  of  each,  and  should  be  glad  if  each  re 
ceived  an  order  for  an  equestrian  statue.  Nor  is  there  any  reason 
why  they  should  not.  There  is  money  enough  in  the  country, 
and  the  more  good  things  there  are  for  the  people  to  see  freely  in 
open  daylight,  the  better.  That  makes  artists  germinate. 

I  love  the  artists,  though  I  cannot  speak  of  their  works  in  a 
way  to  content  their  friends,  or  even  themselves,  often.  Who  can, 
that  has  a  standard  of  excellence  in  the  mind,  and  a  delicate  con 
science  in  the  use  of  words  ?  My  highest  tribute  is  meagre  of 
superlatives  in  comparison  with  the  hackneyed  puffs  with  which 
artists  submit  to  be  besmeared.  Submit  ?  alas  !  often  they  court 
them,  rather.  I  do  not  expect  any  kindness  from  my  contempo 
raries.  I  know  that  what  is  to  me  justice  and  honor  is  to  them 
only  a  hateful  coldness.  Still  I  love  them,  I  wish  for  their  good, 
I  feel  deeply  for  their  sufferings,  annoyances,  privations,  and 
would  lessen  them  if  I  could.  I  have  thought  it  might  perhaps 
be  of  use  to  publish  some  account  of  the  expenses  of  the  artist. 
There  is  a  general  impression,  that  the  artist  lives  very  cheaply  in 


MISTAKEN    DEALINGS    WITH    ARTISTS.  375 

Italy.  This  is  a  mistake.  Italy,  compared  with  America,  is  not 
so  very  cheap,  except  for  those  who  have  iren  constitutions 
to  endure  bad  food,  eaten  in  bad  air,  damp  and  dirty  lodgings. 
The  expenses,  even  in  Florence,  of  a  simple  but  clean  and  whole 
some  life,  are  little  less  than  in  New  York.  The  great  difference 
is  for  people  that  are  rich.  An  Englishman  of  rank  and  fortune 
does  not  need  the  same  amount  of  luxury  as  at  home,  to  be  on  a 
footing  with  the  nobles  of  Italy.  The  Broadway  merchant  would 
find  his  display  of  mahogany  and  carpets  thrown  away  in  a  coun 
try  where  a  higher  kind  of  ornament  is  the  only  one  available. 
But  poor  people,  who  can,  at  any  rate,  buy  only  the  necessaries  of 
life,  will  find  them  in  the  Italian  cities,  where  all  sellers  live  by 
cheating  foreigners,  very  little  cheaper  than  in  America. 

The  patrons  of  Art  in  America,  ignorant  of  these  facts,  and  not 
knowing  the  great  expenses  which  attend  the  study  of  Art  and  the 
production  of  its  wonders,  are  often  guilty  of  most  undesigned 
cruelty,  and  do  things  which  it  would  grieve  their  hearts  to  have 
done,  if  they  only  knew  the  facts.  They  have  read  essays  on  the 
uses  of  adversity  in  developing  genius,  and  they  are  not  suffi 
ciently  afraid  to  administer  a  dose  of  adversity  beyond  what  the 
forces  of  the  patient  can  bear.  Laudanum  in  drops  is  useful  as 
a  medicine,  but  a  cupful  kills  downright. 

Beside  this  romantic  idea  about  letting  artists  suffer  to  develop 
their  genius,  the  American  Maecenas  is  not  sufficiently  aware  of 
the  expenses  attendant  on  producing  the  work  he  wants.  He 
does  not  consider  that  the  painter,  the  sculptor,  must  be  paid  for 
the  time  he  spends  in  designing  and  moulding,  no  less  than  in 
painting  and  carving ;  that  he  must  have  his  bread  and  sleeping- 
house,  his  workhouse  or  studio,  his  marbles  and  colors,  —  the 
sculptor  his  workmen ;  so  that  if  the  price  be  paid  he  asks,  a 
modest  and  delicate  man  very  commonly  receives  no  guerdon  for 
his  thought,  —  the  real  essence  of  the  work,  —  except  the  luxury 
of  seeing  it  embodied,  which  he  could  not  otherwise  have  afforded. 
The  American  Maecenas  often  pushes  the  price  down,  not  from 
want  of  generosity,  but  from  a  habit  of  making  what  are  called 
good  bargains,  —  i.  e.  bargains  for  one's  own  advantage  at  the 


376  THINGS    AND    THOUGHTS    IN    EUROPE. 

expense  of  a  poorer  brother.     Those  who  call  these  good  do  not 
believe  that 

"  Mankind  is  one, 
And  beats  with  one  great  heart." 

They  have  not  read  the  life  of  Jesus  Christ. 

Then  the  American  Maecenas  sometimes,  after  ordering  a 
work,  has  been  known  to  change  his  mind  when  the  statue  is 
already  modelled.  It  is  the  American  who  does  these  things, 
because  an  American,  who  either  from  taste  or  vanity  buys  a 
picture,  is  often  quite  uneducated  as  to  the  arts,  and  cannot 
understand  why  a  little  picture  or  figure  costs  so  much  money. 
The  Englishman  or  Frenchman,  of  a  suitable  position  to  seek 
these  adornments  for  his  house,  usually  understands  better  than 
the  visitor  of  Powers  who,  on  hearing  the  price  of  the  Proser 
pine,  wonderingly  asked,  "Isn't  statuary  riz  lately?"  Queen 
Victoria  of  England,  and  her  Albert,  it  is  said,  use  their  royal 
privilege  to  get  works  of  art  at  a  price  below  their  value ;  but 
their  subjects  would  be  ashamed  to  do  so. 

To  supply  means  of  judging  to  the  American  merchant  (full 
of  kindness  and  honorable  sympathy  as  beneath  the  crust  he  so 
often  is)  who  wants  pictures  and  statues,  not  merely  from  ostenta 
tion,  but  as  means  of  delight  and  improvement  to  himself  and  his 
friends,  who  has  a  soul  to  respect  the  genius  and  desire  the  happi 
ness  of  the  artist,  and  who,  if  he  errs,  does  so  from  ignorance  of 
the  circumstances,  I  give  the  following  memorandum,  made  at  my 
desire  by  an  artist,  my  neighbor  :  — 

"  The  rent  of  a  suitable  studio  for  modelling  in  clay  and  execut 
ing  statues  in  marble  may  be  estimated  at  $  200  a  year. 

"  The  best  journeyman  carver  in  marble  at  Rome  receives  $  60 
a  month.  Models  are  paid  $  1  a  day. 

"  The  cost  of  marble  varies  according  to  the  size  of  the  block, 
being  generally  sold  by  the  cubic  palm,  a  square  of  nine  inches 
English.  As  a  general  guide  regarding  the  prices  established 
among  the  higher  sculptors  of  Rome,  I  may  mention  that  for  a 
statue  of  life-size  the  demand  is  from  $1,000  to  $5,000,  varying 
according  to  the  composition  of  the  figure  and  the  number  of 
accessories. 


TRIALS    OP   AN   ARTIST.  377 

"  It  is  a  common  belief  in  the  United  States,  that  a  student  of 
Art  can  live  in  Italy  and  pursue  his  studies  on  an  income  of  $  300 
or  S  400  a  year.  This  is  a  lamentable  error ;  the  Russian  gov 
ernment  allows  its  pensioners  $  700,  which  is  scarcely  sufficient. 
$  1,000  per  annum  should  be  placed  at  the  disposal  of  every 
young  artist  leaving  our  country  for  Europe." 

Let  it  be  remembered,  in  addition  to  considerations  inevitable 
from  this  memorandum,  that  an  artist  may  after  years  and  months 
of  uncheered  and  difficult  toil,  after  he  has  gone  through  the 
earlier  stages  of  an  education,  find  it  too  largely  based,  and  of 
aim  too  high,  to  finish  in  this  world. 

The  Prussian  artist  here  on  my  left  hand  learned  not  only  his 
art,  but  reading  and  writing,  after  he  was  thirty.  A  farmer's  son, 
he  was  allowed  no  freedom  to  learn  anything  till  the  death  of  the 
head  of  the  house  left  him  a  beggar,  but  set  him  free ;  he  walked 
to  Berlin,  distant  several  hundred  miles,  attracted  by  his  first  works 
some  attention,  and  received  some  assistance  in  money,  earned 
more  by  invention  of  a  ploughshare,  walked  to  Rome,  struggled 
through  every  privation,  and  has  now  a  reputation  which  has 
secured  him  the  means  of  putting  his  thoughts  into  marble. 
True,  at  forty-nine  years  of  age  he  is  still  severely  poor ;  he  cannot 
marry,  because  he  cannot  maintain  a  family ;  but  he  is  cheerful, 
because  he  can  work  in  his  own  way,  trusts  with  childlike  reliance 
in  God,  and  is  still  sustained  by  the  vigorous  health  he  wpn  labor 
ing  in  his  father's  fields.  Not  every  man  could  continue  to  work, 
circumstanced  as  he  is,  at  the  end  of  the  half-century.  For  him 
the  only  sad  thing  in  my  mind  is  that  his  works  are  not  worth 
working,  though  of  merit  in  composition  and  execution,  yet  ideally 
a  product  of  the  galvanized  piety  of  the  German  school,  more 
mutton-like  than  lamb-like  to  my  unchurched  eyes. 

You  are  likely  to  have  a  work  to  look  at  in  the  United 
States  by  the  great  master  of  that  school,  Overbeck  ;  Mr.  Per 
kins  of  Boston,  who  knows  how  to  spend  his  money  with  equal 
generosity  and  discretion,  having  bought  his  "  Wise  and  Foolish 
Virgins."  It  will  be  precious  to  the  country  from  great  artistic 
merits.  As  to  the  spirit,  "  blessed  are  the  poor  in  spirit."  That 
32* 


378  THINGS    AND    THOUGHTS    IN    EUROPE. 

kind  of  severity  is,  perhaps  has  become,  the  nature  of  Overbeck. 
He  seems  like  a  monk,  but  a  really  pious  and  pure  one.  This 
spirit  is  not  what  I  seek ;  I  deem  it  too  narrow  for  our  day,  but 
being  deeply  sincere  in  him,  its  expression  is  at  times  also  deeply 
touching.  Barabbas  borne  in  triumph,  and  the  child  Jesus,  who, 
playing  with  his  father's  tools,  has  made  himself  a  cross,  are  sub 
jects  best  adapted  for  expression  of  this  spirit. 

I  have  written  too  carelessly,  —  much  writing  hath  made  me 
mad  of  late.  Forgive  if  the  "  style  be  not  neat,  terse,  and  spark 
ling,"  if  there  be  naught  of  the  "  thrilling,"  if  the  sentences  seem 
not  "  written  with  a  diamond  pen,"  like  all  else  that  is  published 
in  America.  Some  time  I  must  try  to  do  better.  For  this  time 
"Forgive  my  faults;  forgive  my  virtues  too." 

March  21. 

Day  before  yesterday  was  the  Feast  of  St.  Joseph.  He  is  sup 
posed  to  have  acquired  a  fondness  for  fried  rice-cakes  during  his 
residence  in  Egypt.  Many  are  eaten  in  the  open  street,  in  arbors 
made  for  the  occasion.  One  was  made  beneath  my  window,  on 
Piazza  Barberini.  All  the  day  and  evening  men,  cleanly  dressed 
in  white  aprons  and  liberty  caps,  quite  new,  of  fine,  red  cloth, 
were  frying  cakes  for  crowds  of  laughing,  gesticulating  customers. 
It  rained  a  little,  and  they  held  an  umbrella  over  the  frying-pan, 
but  not  over  themselves.  The  arbor  is  still  there,  and  little  chil 
dren  are  playing  in  and  out  of  it ;  one  still  lesser  runs  in  its  leading- 
strings,  followed  by  the  bold,  gay  nurse,  to  the  brink  of  the  foun 
tain,  after  its  orange  which  has  rolled  before  it.  Tenerani's  work 
men  are  coming  out  of  his  studio,  the  priests  are  coming  home 
from  Ponte  Pio,  the  Contadini  beginning  to  play  at  moro,  for  the 
setting  sun  has  just  lit  up  the  magnificent  range  of  windows  in 
the  Palazzo  Barberini,  and  then  faded  tenderly,  sadly  away,  and 
the  mellow  bells  have  chimed  the  Ave  Maria.  Rome  looks  as 
Roman,  that  is  to  say  as  tranquil,  as  ever,  despite  the  trouble  that 
tugs  at  her  heart-strings.  There  is  a  report  that  Mazzini  is  to  be 
made  Dictator,  as  Manin  is  in  Venice,  for  a  short  time,  so  as  to 
provide  hastily  and  energetically  for  the  war.  Ave  Maria  San- 


AN    AVE    MARIA.  379 

tissima!  when  thou  didst  gaze  on  thy  babe  with  such  infinite 
hope,  thou  didst  not  dream  that,  so  many  ages  after,  blood  would 
be  shed  and  curses  uttered  in  his  name.  Madonna  Addolorata ! 
hadst  thou  not  hoped  peace  and  good-will  would  spring  from  his 
bloody  woes,  couldst  thou  have  borne  those  hours  at  the  foot  of 
the  cross.  O  Stella !  woman's  heart  of  love,  send  yet  a  ray 
of  pure  light  on  this  troubled  deep ! 


LETTER    XXX. 

The  Stn  ggle  in  Eome.  —  Position  of  the  French.  —  The  Austrians.  —  Feeling  of 
the  Reman  People.  —  The  French  Troops.  —  Effects  of  War.  —  Hospitals. — 
The  Princess  Belgioioso.  —  Position  of  Mr.  Cass  as  Envoy.  —  Difficulties  and 
Suggestions  —  America  and  Rome.  —  Reflections  on  the  Eternal  City.  —  The 
French:  The  People. 

Rome,  May  27,  1849. 

I  HAVE  suspended  writing  in  the  expectation  of  some  decisive 
event ;  but  none  such  comes  yet.  The  French,  entangled  in  a 
web  of  falsehood,  abashed  by  a  defeat  that  Oudinot  has  vainly 
tried  to  gloss  over,  the  expedition  disowned  by  all  honorable  men 
at  home,  disappointed  at  Gaeta,  not  daring  to  go  the  length  Papal 
infatuation  demands,  know  not  what  to  do.  The  Neapolitans 
have  been  decidedly  driven  back  into  their  own  borders,  the  last 
time  in  a  most  shameful  rout,  their  king  flying  in  front.  We 
have  heard  for  several  days  that  the  Austrians  were  advancing,  but 
they  come  not.  They  also,  it  is  probable,  meet  with  unexpected 
embarrassments.  They  find  that  the  sincere  movement  of  the 
Italian  people  is  very  unlike  that  of  troops  commanded  by  princes 
and  generals  who  never  wished  to  conquer  and  were  always  wait 
ing  to  betray.  Then  their  troubles  at  home  are  constantly  in 
creasing,  and,  should  the  Russian  intervention  quell  these  to-day, 
it  is  only  to  raise  a  storm  far  more  terrible  to-morrow. 

The  struggle  is  now  fairly,  thoroughly  commenced  between  the 
principle  of  democracy  and  the  old  powers,  no  longer  legitimate. 
That  struggle  may  last  fifty  years,  and  the  earth  be  watered  with 
the  blood  and  tears  of  more  than  one  generation,  but  the  result  is 
sure.  All  Europe,  including  Great  Britain,  where  the  most  bitter 
resistance  of  all  will  be  made,  is  to  be  under  republican  govern 
ment  in  the  next  century. 

"  God  moves  in  a  mysterious  way." 


ITALY    PROTESTANT.  381 

Every  struggle  made  by  the  old  tyrannies,  all  their  Jesuitical 
deceptions,  their  rapacity,  their  imprisonments  and  executions  of 
the  most  generous  men,  only  sow  more  dragon's  teeth  ;  the  crop 
shoots  up  daily  more  and  more  plenteous. 

When  I  first  arrived  in  Italy,  the  vast  majority  of  this  people 
had  no  wish  beyond  limited  monarchies,  constitutional  govern 
ments.  They  still  respected  the  famous  names  of  the  nobility ; 
they  despised  the  priests,  but  were  still  fondly  attached  to  the 
dogmas  and  ritual  of  the  Roman  Catholic  Church.  It  required 
King  Bomba,  the  triple  treachery  of  Charles  Albert,  Pius  IX.,  and 
the  "  illustrious  Gioberti,"  the  naturally  kind-hearted,  but,  from 
the  necessity  of  his  position,  cowardly  and  false  Leopold  of  Tus 
cany,  the  vagabond  "  serene  "  meannesses  of  Parma  and  Modena, 
the  "  fatherly  "  Radetzsky,  and,  finally,  the  imbecile  Louis  Bona 
parte,  "  would-be  Emperor  of  France,"  to  convince  this  people 
that  no  transition  is  possible  between  the  old  and  the  new.  The 
work  is  done  ;  the  revolution  in  Italy  is  now  radical,  nor  can  it 
stop  till  Italy  becomes  independent  and  united  as  a  republic.  Prot 
estant  she  already  is,  and  though  the  memory  of  saints  and  mar 
tyrs  may  continue  to  be  revered,  the  ideal  of  woman  to  be  adored 
under  the  name  of  Mary,  yet  Christ  will  now  begin  to  be  a  little 
thought  of ;  his  idea  has  always  been  kept  carefully  out  of  sight 
under  the  old  regime  ;  all  the  worship  being  for  the  Madonna  and 
saints,  who  were  to  be  well  paid  for  interceding  for  sinners  ;  —  an 
example  which  might  make  men  cease  to  be  such,  was  no  way 
coveted.  Now  the  New  Testament  has  been  translated  into  Ital 
ian  ;  copies  are  already  dispersed  far  and  wide  ;  men  calling  them 
selves  Christians  will  no  longer  be  left  entirely  ignorant  of  the 
precepts  and  life  of  Jesus. 

The  people  of  Rome  have  burnt  the  Cardinals'  carriages. 
They  took  the  confessionals  out  of  the  churches,  and  made  mock 
confessions  in  the  piazzas,  the  scope  of  which  was,  "  I  have  sinned, 
father,  so  and  so."  "  Well,  my  son,  how  much  will  you  pay  to 
the  Church  for  absolution  ? "  Afterward  the  people  thought  of 
burning  the  confessionals,  or  using  them  for  barricades ;  but  at  the 
request  of  the  Triumvirate  they  desisted,  and  even  put  them  back 


382  THINGS    AND    THOUGHTS    IN    EUROPE. 

into  the  churches.  But  it  was  from  no  reaction  of  feeling  that 
they  stopped  short,  only  from  respect  for  the  government.  The 
"  Tartuffe "  of  Moliere  has  been  translated  into  Italian,  and  was 
last  night  performed  with  great  applause  at  the  Valle.  Can  all 
this  be  forgotten  ?  Never !  Should  guns  and  bayonets  replace 
the  Pope  on  the  throne,  he  will  find  its  foundations,  once  deep  as 
modern  civilization,  now  so  undermined  that  it  falls  with  the  least 
awkward  movement. 

But  I  cannot  believe  he  will  be  replaced  there.  France  alone 
could  consummate  that  crime,  —  that,  for  her,  most  cruel,  most  in 
famous  treason.  The  elections  in  France  will  decide.  In  three 
or  four  days  we  shall  know  whether  the  French  nation  at  large 
be  guilty  or  no,  —  whether  it  be  the  will  of  the  nation  to  aid  or 
strive  to  ruin  a  government  founded  on  precisely  the  same  basis 
as  their  own. 

I  do  not  dare  to  trust  that  people.  The  peasant  is  yet  very 
ignorant.  The  suffering  workman  is  frightened  as  he  thinks  of 
the  punishments  that  ensued  on  the  insurrections  of  May  and 
June.  The  man  of  property  is  full  of  horror  at  the  brotherly 
scope  of  Socialism.  The  aristocrat  dreams  of  the  guillotine  always 
when  he  hears  men  speak  of  the  people.  The  influence  of  the 
Jesuits  is  still  immense  in  France.  Both  in  France  and  England 
the  grossest  falsehoods  have  been  circulated  with  unwearied  dili 
gence  about  the  state  of  things  in  Italy.  An  amusing  specimen 
of  what  is  still  done  in  this  line  I  find  just  now  in  a  foreign  journal, 
where  it  says  there  are  red  flags  on  all  the  houses  of  Rome; 
meaning  to  imply  that  the  Romans  are  athirst  for  blood.  Now, 
the  fact  is,  that  these  flags  are  put  up  at  the  entrance  of  those 
streets  where  there  is  no  barricade,  as  a  signal  to  coachmen  and 
horsemen  that  they  can  pass  freely.  There  is  one  on  the  house 
where  I  am,  in  which  is  no  person  but  myself,  who  thirst  for 
peace,  and  the  Padrone,  who  thirsts  for  money. 

Meanwhile  the  French  troops  are  encamped  at  a  little  distance 
from  Rome.  Some  attempts  at  fair  and  equal  treaty  when  their 
desire  to  occupy  Rome  was  firmly  resisted,  Oudinot  describes  in 
his  despatches  as  a  readiness  for  submission.  Having  tried  in 


EFFECTS    OF    WAR.  .383 

vain  to  gain  this  point,  he  has  sent  to  France  for  fresh  orders. 
These  will  be  decided  by  the  turn  the  election  takes.  Meanwhile 
the  French  troops  are  much  exposed  to  the  Roman  force  where 
they  are.  Should  the  Austrians  come  up,  what  will  they  do  ? 
"Will  they  shamelessly  fraternize  with  the  French,  after  pretend 
ing  and  proclaiming  that  they  came  here  as  a  check  upon  their 
aggressions  ?  Will  they  oppose  them  in  defence  of  Rome,  with 
which  they  are  at  war  ? 

Ah  !  the  way  of  falsehood,  the  way  of  treachery,  —  how  dark, 
how  full  of  pitfalls  and  traps  !  Heaven  defend  from  it  all  who 
are  not  yet  engaged  therein  ! 

War  near  at  hand  seems  to  me  even  more  dreadful  than  I  had 
fancied  it.  True,  it  tries  men's  souls,  lays  bare  selfishness  in 
undeniable  deformity.  Here  it  has  produced  much  fruit  of  noble 
sentiment,  noble  act ;  but  still  it  breeds  vice  too,  drunkenness, 
mental  dissipation,  tears  asunder  the  tenderest  ties,  lavishes  the 
productions  of  Earth,  for  which  her  starving  poor  stretch  out  their 
hands  in  vain,  in  the  most  unprofitable  manner.  And  the  ruin 
that  ensues,  how  terrible  !  Let  those  who  have  ever  passed  happy 
days  in  Rome  grieve  to  hear  that  the  beautiful  plantations  of  Villa 
Borghese  —  that  chief  delight  and  refreshment  of  citizens,  foreign 
ers,  and  little  children  —  are  laid  low,  as  far  as  the  obelisk.  The 
fountain,  singing  alone  amid  the  fallen  groves,  cannot  be  seen  and 
heard  without  tears  ;  it  seems  like  some  innocent  infant  calling 
and  crowing  amid  dead  bodies  on  a  field  which  battle  has  strewn 
with  the  bodies  of  those  who  once  cherished  it.  The  plantations 
of  Villa  Salvage  on  the  Tiber,  also,  the  beautiful  trees  on  the  way 
from  St.  John  Lateran  to  La  Maria  Maggiore,  the  trees  of  the 
Forum,  are  fallen.  Rome  is  shorn  of  the  locks  which  lent  grace 
to  her  venerable  brow.  She  looks  desolate,  profaned.  I  feel 
what  I  never  expected  to,  —  as  if  I  might  by  and  by  be  willing 
to  leave  Rome. 

Then  I  have,  for  the  first  time,  seen  what  wrounded  men  suffer. 
The  night  of  the  30th  of  April  I  passed  in  the  hospital,  and  saw 
the  terrible  agonies  of  those  dying  or  who  needed  amputation,  felt 
their  mental  pains  and  longing  for  the  loved  ones  who  were 


384  THINGS    AND    THOUGHTS    IN    EUROPE. 

away ;  for  many  of  these  were  Lombards,  who  had  come  from 
the  field  of  Novarra  to  fight  with  a  fairer  chance,  —  many  were 
students  of  the  University,  who  had  enlisted  and  thrown  them 
selves  into  the  front  of  the  engagement.  The  impudent  false 
hoods  of  the  "French  general's  despatches  are  incredible.  The 
French  were  never  decoyed  on  in  any  way.  They  were  re 
ceived  with  every  possible  mark  of  hostility.  They  were  defeated 
in  open  field,  the  Garibaldi  legion  rushing  out  to  meet  them ;  and 
though  they  suffered  much  from  the  walls,  they  sustained  them 
selves  nowhere.  They  never  put  up  a  white  flag  till  they  wished 
to  surrender.  The  vanity  that  strives  to  cover  over  these  facts  is 
unworthy  of  men.  The  only  excuse  for  the  imprudent  conduct  of 
the  expedition  is  that  they  were  deceived,  not  by  the  Romans 
here,  but  by  the  priests  of  Gaeta,  leading  them  to  expect  action  in 
their  favor  within  the  walls.  These  priests  themselves  were  de 
luded  by  their  hopes, and  old  habits  of  mind.  The  troops  did  not 
fight  well,  and  General  Oudinot  abandoned  his  wounded  without 
proper  care.  All  this  says  nothing  against  French  valor,  proved 
by  ages  of  glory,  beyond  the  doubt  of  their  worst  foes.  They 
were  demoralized  because  they  fought  in  so  bad  a  cause,  and 
there  was  no  sincere  ardor  or  clear  hope  in  any  breast. 

But  to  return  to  the  hospitals :  these  were  put  in  order,  and 
have  been  kept  so,  by  the  Princess  Belgioioso.  The  princess  was 
born  of  one  of  the  noblest  families  of  the  Milanese,  a  descend 
ant  of  the  great  Trivalzio,  and  inherited  a  large  fortune.  Very 
early  she  compromised  it  in  liberal  movements,  and,  on  their  fail 
ure,  was  obliged  to  fly  to  Paris,  where  for  a  time  she  maintained 
herself  by  writing,  and  I  think  by  painting  also.  A  princess  so 
placed  naturally  excited  great  interest,  and  she  drew  around  her 
a  little  court  of  celebrated  men.  After  recovering  her  fortune, 
she  still  lived  in  Paris,  distinguished  for  her  talents  and  munifi 
cence,  both  toward  literary  men  and  her  exiled  countrymen. 
Later,  on  her  estate,  called  Locate,  between  Pavia  and  Milan,  she 
had  made  experiments  in  the  Socialist  direction  with  fine  judg 
ment  and  success.  Association  for  education,  for  labor,  for  trans 
action  of  household  affairs,  had  been  carried  on  for  several  years ; 


PRINCESS    BELGIOIOSO.  385 

she  had  spared  no  devotion  of  time  and  money  to  this  object, 
loved,  and  was  much  beloved  by,  those  objects  of  her  care,  and 
said  she  hoped  to  die  there.  All  is  now  despoiled  and  broken  up, 
though  it  may  be  hoped  that  some  seeds  of  peaceful  reform  have 
been  sown  which  will  spring  to  light  when  least  expected.  The 
princess  returned  to  Italy  in  1847-8,  full  of  hope  in  Pius  IX. 
and  Charles  Albert.  She  showed  her  usual  energy  and  truly 
princely  heart,  sustaining,  at  her  own  expense,  a  company  of 
soldiers  and  a  journal  up  to  the  last  sad  betra}  al  of  Milan,  Au 
gust  6th.  These  days  undeceived  all  the  people,  but  few  of  the 
noblesse  ;  she  was  one  of  the  few  with  mind  strong  enough  to 
understand  the  lesson,  and  is  now  warmly  interested  in  the  re 
publican  movement.  From  Milan  she  went  to  France,  but,  find 
ing  it  impossible  to  effect  anything  serious  there  in  behalf  of  Italy, 
returned,  and  has  been  in  Rome  about  two  months.  Since  leav 
ing  Milan  she  receives  no  income,  her  possessions  being  in  the 
grasp  of  Radetzky,  and  cannot  know  when,  if  ever,  she  will  again. 
But  as  she  worked  so  largely  and  well  with  money,  so  can  she 
without.  She  published  an  invitation  to  the  Roman  women  to 
make  lint  and  bandages,  and  offer  their  services  to  the  wounded  ; 
she  put  the  hospitals  in  order;  in  the  central  one,  Trinita  de  Pel 
legrini,  once  the  abode  where  the  pilgrims  were  received  during 
holy  week,  and  where  foreigners  were  entertained  by  seeing  their 
feet  washed  by  the  noble  darnes  and  dignitaries  of  Rome,  she  has 
remained  day  and  night  since  the  30th  of  April,  when  the  wounded 
were  first  there.  Some  money  she  procured  at  first  by  going 
through  Rome,  accompanied  by  two  other  ladies  veiled,  to  beg  it. 
Afterward  the  voluntary  contributions  were  generous  ;  among  the 
rest,  I  am  proud  to  say,  the  Americans  in  Rome  gave  $  250,  of 
which  a  handsome  portion  came  from  Mr.  Brown,  the  Consul. 

I  value  this  mark  of  sympathy  more  because  of  the  irritation  and 
surprise  occasioned  here  by  the  position  of  Mr.  Cass,  the  Envoy. 
It  is  most  unfortunate  that  we  should  have  an  envoy  here  for  the 
first  time,  just  to  offend  and  disappoint  the  Romans.  When  all 
the  other  ambassadors  are  at  Gaeta,  ours  is  in  Rome,  as  if  by  his 
presence  to  discountenance  the  republican  government,  which  he 
33 


386  THINGS    AND    THOUGHTS    IN    EUROPE. 

does  not  recognize.  Mr.  Cass,  it  seems,  is  required  I  y  his  instruc 
tions  not  to  recognize  the  government  till  sure  it  can  be  sustained. 
Now  it  seems  to  me  that  the  only  dignified  ground  for  our  govern 
ment,  the  only  legitimate  ground  for  any  republican  government,  is 
to  recognize  for  any  nation  the  government  chosen  by  itself.  The 
suffrage,  had  been  correct  here,  and  the  proportion  of  votes  to  the 
whole  population  was  much  larger,  it  was  said  by  Americans  here, 
than  it  is  in  our  own  country  at  the  time  of  contested  elections. 
It  had  elected  an  Assembly ;  that  Assembly  had  appointed,  to 
meet  the  exigencies  of  this  time,  the  Triumvirate.  If  any  mis 
representations  have  induced  America  to  believe,  as  France 
affects  to  have  believed,  that  so  large  a  vote  could  have  been 
obtained  by  moral  intimidation,  the  present  unanimity  of  the  pop 
ulation  in  resisting  such  immense  odds,  and  the  enthusiasm  of 
their  every  expression  in  favor  of  the  present  government,  puts 
the  matter  beyond  a  doubt.  The  Roman  people  claims  once 
more  to  have  a  national  existence.  It  declines  further  serfdom  to 
an  ecclesiastical  court.  It  claims  liberty  of  conscience,  of  action, 
and  of  thought.  Should  it  fall  from  its  present  position,  it  will 
not  be  from  internal  dissent,  but  from  foreign  oppression. 

Since  this  is  the  case,  surely  our  country,  if  no  other,  is  bound 
to  recognize  the  present  government  so  long  as  it  can  sustain  it 
self.  This  position  is  that  to  which  we  have  a  right:  being  such, 
it  is  no  matter  how  it  is  viewed  by  others.  But  I  dare  assert  it 
is  the  only  respectable  one  for  our  country,  in  the  eyes  of  the 
Emperor  of  Russia  himself. 

The  first,  best  occasion  is  past,  when  Mr.  Cass  might,  had  he 
been  empowered  to  act  as  Mr.  Rush  did  in  France,  have  morally 
strengthened  the  staggering  republic,  which  would  have  found 
sympathy  where  alone  it  is  of  permanent  value,  on  the  basis  of 
principle.  Had  it  been  in  vain,  what  then  ?  America  would 
have  acted  honorably ;  as  to  our  being  compromised  thereby  with 
the  Papal  government,  that  fear  is  idle.  Pope  and  Cardinals 
have  great  hopes  from  America;  the  giant  influence  there  is  kept 
up  with  the  greatest  care ;  the  number  of  Catholic  writers  in  the 
United  States,  too,  carefully  counted.  Had  our  republican  gov- 


r 


APPEAL    TO    AMERICA.  387 

ernment  acknowledged  this  republican  government,  the  Papal 
Camarilla  would  have  respected  us  more,  but  not  loved  us  less ; 
for  have  we  not  the  loaves  and  fishes  to  give,  as  well  as  the 
precious  souls  to  be  saved  ?  Ah !  here,  indeed,  America  might 
go  straightforward  with  all  needful  impunity.  Bishop  Hughes 
himself  need  not  be  anxious.  That  first,  best  occasion  has  passed, 
and  the  unrecognized,  unrecognizing  Envoy  has  given  offence,  and 
not  comfort,  by  a  presence  that  seemed  constantly  to  say,  I  do 
not  think  you  can  sustain  yourselves.  It  has  wounded  both  the 
heart  and  the  pride  of  Rome.  Some  of  the  lowest  people  have 
asked  me,  "  Is  it  not  true  that  your  country  had  a  war  to  become 
free  ?  "  "  Yes."  "  Then  why  do  they  not  feel  for  us  ?  " 

Yet  even  now  it  is  not  too  late.  If  America  would  only  hail 
triumphant,  though  she  could  not  sustain  injured  Rome,  that 
would  be  something.  "  Can  you  suppose  Rome  will  triumph,"  you 
say,  "  without  money,  and  against  so  potent  a  league  of  foes  ?  " 
I  am  not  sure,  but  I  hope,  for  I  believe  something  in  the  heart 
of  a  people  when  fairly  awakened.  I  have  also  a  lurking  confi 
dence  in  what  our  fathers  spoke  of  so  constantly,  a  providential 
order  of  things,  by  which  brute  force  and  selfish  enterprise  are 
sometimes  set  at  naught  by  aid  which  seems  to  descend  from  a 
higher  sphere.  Even  old  pagans  believed  in  that,  you  know; 
and  I  was  born  in  America,  Christianized  by  the  Puritans, — • 
America,  freed  by  eight  years'  patient  suffering,  poverty,  and 
struggle,  —  America,  so  cheered  in  dark  days  by  one  spark  of 
sympathy  from  a  foreign  shore,  —  America,  first  "  recognized"  by 
Lafayette.  I  saw  him  when  traversing  our  country,  then  great, 
rich,  and  free.  Millions  of  men  who  owed  in  part  their  happi 
ness  to  what,  no  doubt,  was  once  sneered  at  as  romantic  sympa 
thy,  threw  garlands  in  his  path.  It  is  natural  that  I  should  have 
some  faith. 

Send,  dear  America !  to  thy  ambassadors  a  talisman  precious 
beyond  all  that  boasted  gold  of  California.  Let  it  loose  his 
tongue  to  cry,  "  Long  live  the  Republic,  and  may  God  bless  the 
cause  of  the  people,  the  brotherhood  of  nations  and  of  men,  — 
the  equality  of  rights  for  all."  Viva  America  ! 


THINGS   AND    THOUGHTS    IN    EUROPE. 

Hail  to  my  country  !  May  she  live  a  free,  a  glorious,  a  loving 
life,  and  not  perish,  like  the  old  dominions,  from  the  leprosy  of 
selfishness. 

Evening. 

I  am  alone  in  the  ghostly  silence  of  a  great  house,  not  long 
since  full  of  gay  faces  and  echoing  with  gay  voices,  now  deserted 
by  every  one  but  me, — for  almost  all  foreigners  are  gone  now, 
driven  by  force  either  of  the  summer  heats  or  the  foe.  I  hear  all 
the  Spaniards  are  going  now,  —  that  twenty-one  have  taken  pass 
ports  to-day ;  why  that  is,  I  do  not  know. 

I  shall  not  go  till  the  last  moment ;  my  only  fear  is  of  France. 
I  cannot  think  in  any  case  there  would  be  found  men  willing  to 
damn  themselves  to  latest  posterity  by  bombarding  Rome.  Other 
cities  they  may  treat  thus,  careless  of  destroying  the  innocent  and 
helpless,  the  babe  and  old  grandsire  who  cannot  war  against  them. 
But  Rome,  precious  inheritance  of  mankind,  —  will  they  run  the 
risk  of  marring  her  shrined  treasures  ?  Would  they  dare  do  it  ? 

Two  of  the  balls  that  struck  St.  Peter's  have  been  sent  to  Pius 
IX.  by  his  children,  who  find  themselves  so  much  less  "  beloved  " 
than  were  the  Austrians. 

These  two  days,  days  of  solemn  festivity  in  the  calends  of  the 
Church,  have  been  duly  kept,  and  the  population  looks  cheerful 
as  it  swarms  through  the  streets.  Tiie  order  of  Rome,  thronged 
as  it  is  with  troops,  is  amazing.  I  go  from  one  end  to  the  other, 
and  amid  the  poorest  and  most  barbarous  of  the  population, 
(barbarously  ignorant,  •!  mean,)  alone  and  on  foot.  My  friends 
send  out  their  little  children  alone  with  their  nurses.  The 
amount  of  crime  is  almost  nothing  to  what  it  was.  The  Roman, 
no  longer  pent  in  ignorance  and  crouching  beneath  espionage,  no 
longer  stabs  in  the  dark.  His  energies  have  true  vent ;  his 
better  feelings  are  roused ;  he  has  thrown  aside  the  stiletto. 
The  power  here  is  indeed  miraculous,  since  no  doubt  still  lurk 
within  the  walls  many  who  are  eager  to  incite  brawls,  if  only  to 
give  an  excuse  for  slander. 

To-day  I  suppose  twelve  thousand  Austrians  marched  into 
Florence.  The  Florentines  have  humbled  and  disgraced  them- 


POSSIBLE    FUTURE    OF   ROME.  389 

selves  in  vain.  They  recalled  the  Grand  Duke  to  ward  off  the 
entrance  of  the  Austrians,  but  in  vain  went  the  deputation  to 
Gaeta  —  in  an  American  steamer!  Leopold  was  afraid  to  come 
till  his  dear  cousins  of  Austria  had  put  everything  in  perfect 
order ;  then  the  Austrians  entered  to  take  Leghorn,  but  the 
Florentines  still  kept  on  imploring  them  not  to  come  there ;  Flor 
ence  was  as  subdued,  as  good  as  possible,  already  :  —  they  have 
had  the  answer  they  deserved.  Now  they  crown  their  work  by 
giving  over  Guerazzi  and  Petracci  to  be  tried  by  an  Austrian 
court-martial.  Truly  the  cup  of  shame  brims  over. 

I  have  been  out  on  the  balcony  to  look  over  the  city.  All 
sleeps  with  that  peculiar  air  of  serene  majesty  known  to  this 
city  only; — this  city  that  has  grown,  not  out  of  the  necessities 
of  commerce  nor  the  luxuries  of  wealth,  but  first  out  of  heroism, 
then  out  of  faith.  Swelling  domes,  roofs  softly  tinted  with  yellow 
moss  !  what  deep  meaning,  what  deep  repose,  in  your  faintly  seen 
outline  ! 

The  young  moon  climbs  among  clouds,  —  the  clouds  of  a  de 
parting  thunderstorm.  Tender,  smiling  moon  !  can  it  be  that 
thy  full  orb  may  look  down  on  a  smoking,  smouldering  Rome, 
and  see  her  best  blood  run  along  the  stones,  without  one  nation  in 
the  world  to  defend,  one  to  aid,  —  scarce  one  to  cry  out  a  tardy 
"  Shame  "  ?  We  will  wait,  whisper  the  nations,  and  see  if  they 
can  bear  it.  Rack  them  well  to  see  if  they  are  brave.  If  they 
can  do  without  us,  we  will  help  them.  Is  it  thus  ye  would  be 
served  in  your  turn  ?  Beware  ! 


33 


LETTER    XXXI. 

The  French  Treason  at  Kome.  —  Oudinot.  —  Lesseps.  —  Letter  of  the  Triumvi 
rate.  —  Reply  of  Lesseps.  —  Course  of  Oudinot.  —  The  Wounded  Italians.  — 
Garibaldi.  —  Italian  Young  Men.  —  Military  Funeral.  —  Havoc  of  the  Siege.  — 
Courage  of  Mazzini.  —  Falseness  of  the  London  Times. 

Rome,  June  10,  1849. 

WHAT  shall  I  write  of  Rome  in  these  sad  but  glorious  clays  ? 
Plain  facts  are  the  best;  for  my  feelings  I  could  not  find  fit 
words. 

When  I  last  wrote,  the  French  were  playing  the  second  act 
of  their  farce. 

In  the  first,  the  French  government  affected  to  consult  the  As 
sembly.  The  Assembly,  or  a  majority  of  the  Assembly,  affected 
to  believe  the  pretext  it  gave,  and  voted  funds  for  twelve  thousand 
men  to  go  to  Civita  Vecchia.  Arriving  there,  Oudinot  proclaimed 
that  he  had  come  as  a  friend  and  brother.  He  was  received  as 
such.  Immediately  he  took  possession  of  the  town,  disarmed  the 
Roman  troops,  and  published  a  manifesto  in  direct  opposition  to 
his  first  declaration. 

He  sends  to  Rome  that  he  is  coming  there  as  a  friend  ;  receives 
the  answer  that  he  is  not  wanted  and  cannot  be  trusted.  This 
answer  he  chooses  to  consider  as  coming  from  a  minority,  and  ad 
vances  on  Rome.  The  pretended  majority  on  which  he  counts 
never  shows  itself  by  a  single  movement  within  the  walls.  He 
makes  an  assault,  and  is  defeated.  On  this  subject  his  despatches 
to  his  government  are  full  of  falsehoods  that  would  disgrace  the 
lowest  pickpocket,  —  falsehoods  which  it  is  impossible  he  should 
not  know  to  be  such. 

The  Assembly  passed  a  vote  of  blame.     M.  Louis  Bonaparte 


LETTER    OF    THE    TRIUMVIRS.  391 

writes  a  letter  of  compliment  and  assurance  that  this  course  of 
violence  shall  be  sustained.  In  conformity  with  this  promise 
twelve  thousand  more  troops  are  sent.  This  time  it  is  not  thought 
necessary  to  consult  the  Assembly.  Let  us  view  the 

SECOND  ACT. 

Now  appears  in  Rome  M.  Ferdinand  Lesseps,  Envoy,  &c.  of 
the  French  government.  He  declares  himself  clothed  with  full 
powers  to  treat  with  Rome.  He  cannot  conceal  his  surprise  at  all 
he  sees  there,  at  the  ability  with  which  preparations  have  been 
made  for  defence,  at  the  patriotic  enthusiasm  which  pervades  the 
population.  Nevertheless,  in  beginning  his  game  of  treaty-mak 
ing,  he  is  not -ashamed  to  insist  on  the  French  occupying  the 
city.  Again  and  again  repulsed,  he  again  and  again  returns  to 
the  charge  on  this  point.  And  here  I  shall  translate  the  letter 
addressed  to  him  by  the  Triumvirate,  both  because  of  its  perfect 
candor  of  statement,  and  to  give  an  idea  of  the  sweet  and  noble 
temper  in  which  these  treacherous  aggressions  have  been  met. 

LETTER  OF  THE  TRIUMVIRS  TO  MONSIEUR  LESSEPS. 

"  May  25,  1849. 

"  We  have  had  the  honor,  Monsieur,  to  furnish  you,  in  our  note 
of  the  16th,  with  some  information  as  to  the  unanimous  consent 
which  was  given  to  the  formation  of  the  government  of  the  Ro 
man  Republic.  We  to-day  would  speak  to  you  of  the  actual 
question,  such  as  it  is  debated  in  fact,  if  not  by  right,  between  the 
French  government  and  ours.  You  will  allow  us  to  do  it  with 
the  frankness  demanded  by  the  urgency  of  the  situation,  as  well 
as  the  sympathy  which  ought  to  govern  all  relations  between 
France  and  Italy.  Our  diplomacy  is  the  truth,  and  the  character 
given  to  your  mission  is  a  guaranty  that  the  best  possible  inter 
pretation  will  be  given  to  what  we  shall  say  to  you. 

"  With  your  permission,  we  return  for  an  instant  to  the  cause 
of  the  present  situation  of  affairs. 

"  In  consequence  of  conferences  and  arrangements  which  took 
place  without  the  government  of  the  Roman  Republic  ever  being 


302  THINGS    AND    THOUGHTS    IN    EUROPE. 

called  on  to  take  part,  it  was  some  time  since  decided  by  the 
Catholic  Powers,  —  1st.  That  a  modification  should  take  place  in 
the  government  and  institutions  of  the  Roman  States ;  2d.  That 
this  modification  should  have  for  basis  the  return  of  Pius  IX.,  not 
as  Pope,  for  to  that  no  obstacle  is  interposed  by  us,  but  as  tem 
poral  sovereign  ;  3d.  That  if,  to  attain  that  aim,  a  continuous  in 
tervention  was  judged  necessary,  that  intervention  should  take 
place. 

"  We  are  willing  to  admit,  that  while  for  some  of  the  contract 
ing  governments  the  only  motive  was  the  hope  of  a  general  res 
toration  and  absolute  return  to  the  treaties  of  1815,  the  French 
government  was  drawn  into  this  agreement  only  in  consequence  of 
erroneous  information,  tending  systematically  to  depict  the  Roman 
States  as  given  up  to  anarchy  and  governed  by  terror  exercised 
in  the  name  of  an  audacious  minority.  We  know  also,  that,  in  the 
modification  proposed,  the  French  government  intended  to  repre 
sent  an  influence  more  or  less  liberal,  opposed  to  the  absolutist 
programme  of  Austria  and  of  Naples.  It  does  none  the  less  re 
main  true,  that  under  the  Apostolic  or  constitutional  form,  with 
or  without  liberal  guaranties  to  the  Roman  people,  the  dominant 
thought  in  all  the  negotiations  to  which  we  allude  has  been  some 
sort  of  return  toward  the  past,  a  compromise  between  the  Roman 
people  and  Pius  IX.  considered  as  temporal  prince. 

"  We  cannot  dissemble  to  ourselves,  Monsieur,  that  the  French 
expedition  has  been  planned  and  executed  under  the  inspiration 
of  this  thought.  Its  object  was,  on  one  side,  to  throw  the  sword 
of  France  into  the  balance  of  negotiations  which  were  to  be 
opened  at  Rome  ;  on  the  other,  to  guarantee  the  Roman  people 
from  the  excess  of  retrograde,  but  always  on  condition  that  it 
should  submit  to  constitutional  monarchy  in  favor  of  the  Holy 
Father.  This  is  assured  to  us  partly  from  information  which 
we  believe  we  possess  as  to  the  concert  with  Austria ;  from  the 
proclamations  of  General  Oudinot ;  from  the  formal  declarations 
made  by  successive  envoys  to  the  Triumvirate ;  from  the  silence 
obstinately  maintained  whenever  we  have  sought  to  approach 
the  political  question  and  obtain  a  formal  declaration  of  the  fact 


LETTER    OF    THE    TRIUMVIRS.  393 

proved  in  our  note  of  the  16th,  that  the  institutions  by  which 
the  Roman  people  are  governed  at  this  time  are  the  free  and 
spontaneous  expression  of  the  wish  of  the  people  inviolable  when 
legally  ascertained.  For  the  rest,  the  vote  of  the  French  As 
sembly  sustains  implicitly  the  fact  that  we  affirm. 

"  In  such  a  situation,  under  the  menace  of  an  inadmissible 
compromise,  and  of  negotiations  which  the  state  of  our  people 
no  way  provoked,  our  part,  Monsieur,  could  not  be  doubtful. 
To  resist,  —  we  owed  this  to  our  country,  to  France,  to  all 
Europe.  We  ought,  in  fulfilment  of  a  mandate  loyally  given, 
loyally  accepted,  maintain  to  our  country  the  inviolability,  so  far 
as  that  was  possible  to  us,  of  its  territory,  and  of  the  institutions 
decreed  by  all  the  powers,  by  all  the  elements,  of  the  state.  We 
ought  to  conquer  the  time  needed  for  appeal  from  France  ill  in 
formed  to  France  better  informed,  to  save  the  sister  republic 
the  disgrace  and  the  remorse  which  must  be  hers  if,  rashly  led  on 
by  bad  suggestions  from  without,  she  became,  before  she  was 
aware,  accomplice  in  an  act  of  violence  to  which  we  can  find  no 
parallel  without  going  back  to  the  partition  of  Poland  in  1772. 
We  owed  it  to  Europe  to  maintain,  as  far  as  we  could,  the  funda 
mental  principles  of  all  international  life,  the  independence  of  each 
people  in  all  that  concerns  its  internal  administration.  We  say  it 
without  pride,  —  for  if  it  is  with  enthusiasm  that  we  resist  the  at 
tempts  of  the  Neapolitan  monarchy  and  of  Austria,  our  eternal  ene 
my,  it  is  with  profound  grief  that  we  are  ourselves  constrained  to 
contend  with  the  arms  of  France,  —  we  believe  in  following  this 
line  of  conduct  we  have  deserved  well,  not  only  of  our  country,  but 
of  all  the  people  of  Europe,  even  of  France  herself. 

"  We  come  to  the  actual  question.  You  know,  Monsieur,  the 
events  which  have  followed  the  French  intervention.  Our  terri 
tory  has  been  invaded  by  the  king  of  Naples. 

u  Four  thousand  Spaniards  were  to  embark  on  the  17th  for  in 
vasion  of  this  country.  The  Austrians,  having  surmounted  the 
heroic  resistance  of  Bologna,  have  advanced  into  Romagna,  and 
are  now  marching  on  Ancona. 

"  We  have  beaten  and  driven  out  of  our  territory  the  forces  of 


394  THINGS    AND    THOUGHTS    IN    EUROPE. 

the  king  of  Naples.  We  believe  we  should  do  the  same  by  the 
Austrian  forces,  if  the  attitude  of  the  French  here  did  not  letter 
our  action. 

"We  are  sorry  to  say  it,  but  France  must  be  informed  that  the 
expedition  of  Civita  Vecchia,  said  to  be  planned  for  our  protection, 
costs  us  very  dear.  Of  all  the  interventions  with  which  it  is  hoped 
to  overwhelm  us,  that  of  the  French  has  been  the  most  perilous. 
Against  the  soldiers  of  Austria  and  the  king  of  Naples  we  can 
fight,  for  God  protects  a  good  cause.  But  we  do  not  wish  to  fgld 
against  the  French.  We  are  toward  them  in  a  state,  not  of  war, 
but  of  simple  defence.  But  this  position,  the  only  one  we  wish  to 
take  wherever  we  meet  France,  has  for  us  all  the  inconveniences 
without  any  of  the  favorable  chances  of  war. 

"  The  French  expedition  has,  from  the  first,  forced  us  to  concen 
trate  our  troops,  thus  leaving  our  frontier  open  to  Austrian  in 
vasion,  and  Bologna  and  the  cities  of  Romagna  unsustained.  The 
Austrians  have  profited  by  this.  After  eight  days  of  heroic  re 
sistance  by  the  population,  Bologna  was  forced  to  yield.  We  had 
bought  in  France  arms  for  our  defence.  Of  these  ten  thousand 
muskets  have  been  detained  between  Marseilles  and  Civita  Vec 
chia.  These  are  in  your  hands.  Thus  with  a  single  blow  you 
deprive  us  of  ten  thousand  soldiers.  In  every  armed  man  is  a 
soldier  against  the  Austrians. 

"  Your  forces  are  disposed  around  our  walls  as  if  for  a  siege. 
They  remain  there  without  avowed  aim  or  programme.  They 
have  forced  us  to  keep  the  city  in  a  state  of  defence  which  weighs 
upon  our  finances.  They  force  us  to  keep  here  a  body  of  troops 
who  might  be  saving  our  cities  from  the  occupation  and  ravages 
of  the  Austrians.  They  hinder  our  going  from  place  to  place, 
our  provisioning  the  city,  our  sending  couriers.  They  keep  minds 
in  a  state  of  excitement  and  distrust  which  might,  if  our  population 
were  less  good  and  devoted,  lead  to  sinister  results.  They  do  not 
engender  anarchy  nor  reaction,  for  both  are  impossible  at  Rome  ; 
but  they  sow  the  seed  of  irritation  against  France,  and  it  is  a 
misfortune  for  us  who  were  accustomed  to  love  and  hope  in  her. 

"  We  are  besieged,  Monsieur,  besieged  by  France,  in  the  name 


LETTER    OF    THE    TRIUMVIRS.  395 

of  a  protective  mission,  while  some  leagues  off  the  king  of  Naples, 
flying,  carries  off  our  hostages,  and  the  Austrian  slays  our  brothers. 

"  You  have  presented  propositions.  Those  propositions  have 
been  declared  inadmissible  by  the  Assembly.  To-day  you  add  a 
fourth  to  the  three  already  rejected.  This  says  that  France  will 
protect  from  foreign  invasion  all  that  part  of  our  territory  that 
may  be  occupied  by  her  troops.  You  must  yourself  feel  that  this 
changes  nothing  in  our  position. 

"  The  parts  of  the  territory  occupied  by  your  troops  are  in  fact 
protected  ;  but  if  only  for  the  present,  to  what  are  they  reduced  ? 
and  if  it  is  for  the  future,  have  we  no  other  way  to  protect  our 
territory  than  by  giving  it  up  entirely  to  you  ? 

';  The  real  intent  of  your  demands  is  not  stated.  It  is  the  occu 
pation  of  Rome.  This  demand  has  constantly  stood  first  in  your 
list  of  propositions.  Now  we  have  had  the  honor  to  say  to  you, 
Monsieur,  that  is  impossible.  The  people  will  never  consent  to  it. 
If  tlie  occupation  of  Rome  has  for  its  aim  only  to  protect  it,  the 
people  thank  you,  but  tell  you  at  the  same  time,  that,  able  to  de 
fend  Rome  by  their  own  forces,  they  would  be  dishonored  even  in 
your  eyes  by  declaring  themselves  insufficient,  and  needing  the  aid 
of  some  regiments  of  French  soldiers.  If  the  occupation  has  oth 
erwise  a  political  object,  which  God  forbid,  the  people,  who  have 
given  themselves  freely  these  institutions,  cannot  suffer  it.  Rome 
is  their  capital,  their  palladium,  their  sacred  city.  They  know 
very  well,  that,  apart  from  their  principles,  apart  from  their  honor, 
there  is  civil  war  at  the  end  of  such  an  occupation.  They  are 
filled  with  distrust  by  your  persistence.  They  foresee,  the  troops 
being  once  admitted,  changes  in  men  and  in  actions  which  would 
be  fatal  to  their  liberty.  They  know  that,  in  presence  of  foreign 
bayonets,  the  independence  of  their  Assembly,  of  their  govern 
ment,  would  be  a  vain  word.  They  have  always  Civita  Vecchia 
before  their  eyes. 

"  On  this  point  be  sure  their  will  is  irrevocable.  They  will  be 
massacred  from  barricade  to  barricade,  before  they  will  surrender. 
Can  the  soldiers  of  France  wish  to  massacre  a  bi  other  people 
whom  they  came  to  protect,  because  they  do  not  wish  to  surrender 
to  them  their  capital  ? 


396  THINGS    AND    THOUGHTS    IN    EUROPE. 

"  There  are  for  France  only  three  parts  to  take  in  the  Roman 
States.  She  ought  to  declare  herself  for  us,  against  us,  or  neu 
tral.  To  declare  herself  for  us  would  be  to  recognize  our  repub 
lic,  and  fight  side  by  side  with  us  against  the  Austrians.  To 
declare  against  us  is  to  crush  without  motive  the  liberty,  the  na 
tional  life,  of  a  friendly  people,  and  fight  side  by  side  with  the 
Austrians.  France  cannot  do  that.  She  will  not  risk  a  European 
war  to  depress  us,  her  ally.  Let  her,  then,  rest  neutral  in  this 
conflict  between  us  and  our  enemies.  Only  yesterday  we  hoped 
more  from  her,  but  to-day  we  demand  but  this. 

"  The  occupation  of  Civita  Vecchia  is  a  fact  accomplished ;  let 
it  go.  France  thinks  that,  in  the  present  state  of  things,  she 
ought  not  to  remain  distant  from  the  field  of  battle.  She  thinks 
that,  vanquishers  or  vanquished,  we  may  have  need  of  her  mod- 
erative  action  and  of  her  protection.  We  do  not  think  so  ;  but 
we  will  not  react  against  her.  Let  her  keep  Civita  Vecchia. 
Let  her  even  extend  her  encampments,  if  the  numbers  of  her 
troops  require  it,  in  the  healthy  regions  of  Civita  Vecchia  and 
Viterbo.  Let  her  then  wait  the  issue  of  the  combats  about  to 
take  place.  All  facilities  will  be  offered  her,  every  proof  of  frank 
and  cordial  sympathy  given  ;  her  officers  can  visit  Rome,  her 
soldiers  have  all  the  solace  possible.  But  let  her  neutrality  be 
sincere  and  without  concealed  plans.  Let  her  declare  herself  in 
explicit  terms.  Let  her  leave  us  free  to  use  all  our  forces.  Let 
her  restore  our  arms.  Let  her  not  by  her  cruisers  drive  back 
from  our  ports  the  men  who  come  to  our  aid  from  other  parts  of 
Italy.  Let  her,  above  all,  withdraw  from  before  our  walls,  and 
cause  even  the  appearance  of  hostility  to  cease  between  two  nations 
who,  later,  undoubtedly  are  destined  to  unite  in  the  same  inter 
national  faith,  as  now  they  have  adopted  the  same  form  of  gov 
ernment." 

In  his  answer,  Lesseps  appears  moved  by  this  statement,  and 
particularly  expresses  himself  thus :  — 

"  One  point  appears  above  all  to  occupy  you  ;  it  is  the  thought 
that  we  wish  forcibly  to  impose  upon  you  the  obligation  of  receiv- 


ATTACK    ON    THE    CITY.  307 

ing  us  as  friends.  Friendship  and  violence  are  incompatible. 
Thus  it  would  be  inconsistent  on  our  part  to  begin  by  firing  our 
cannon  upon  you,  since  we  are  your  natural  protectors.  Such  a 
contradiction  enters  neither  into  my  intentions,  nor  those  of  tJ.e 
government  of  the  French  republic,  nor  of  our  army  and  its 
honorable  chief" 

These  words  were  written  at  the  head-quarters  of  Oudinot,  and 
of  course  seen  and  approved  by  him.  At  the  same  time,  in  pri 
vate  conversation,  "the  honorable  chief"  could  swear  he  would 
occupy  Rome  by  "  one  means  or  another."  A  few  days  after, 
Lesseps  consented  to  conditions  such  as  the  Romans  would  tol 
erate.  He  no  longer  insisted  on  occupying  Rome,  but  would  con 
tent  himself  with  good  positions  in  the  country.  Oudinot  protested 
that  the  Plenipotentiary  had  "exceeded  his  powers,"  —  that  he 
should  not  obey,  —  that  the  armistice  was  at  an  end,  and  he  should 
attack  Rome  on  Monday.  It  was  then  Friday.  He  proposed  to 
leave  these  two  days  for  the  few  foreigners  that  remained  to  get 
out  of  town.  M.  Lesseps  went  off  to  Paris,  in  great  seeming 
indignation,  to  get  his  treaty  ratified.  Of  course  we  could  not 
hear  from  him  for  eight  or  ten  days.  Meanwhile,  the  honorable 
chief,  alike  in  all  his  conduct,  attacked  on  Sunday  instead  of  Mon 
day.  The  attack  began  before  sunrise,  and  lasted  all  day.  I  saw 
it  from  my  window,  which,  though  distant,  commands  the  gate  of 
St.  Pancrazio.  Why  the  whole  force  was  bent  on  that  part,  I  do 
not  know.  If  they  could  take  it,  the  town  would  be  cannonaded, 
and  the  barricades  useless  ;  but  it  is  the  same  with  the  Pincian 
Gate.  Small  parties  made  feints  in  two  other  directions,  but  they 
were  at  once  repelled.  The  French  fought  with  great  bravery, 
and  this  time  it. is  said  with  beautiful  skill  and  order,  sheltering 
themselves  in  their  advance  by  movable  barricades.  The  Ita  - 
ians  fought  like  lions,  and  no  inch  of  ground  was  gained  by  the 
assailants.  The  loss  of  the  French  is  said  to  be  very  great :  it 
could  not  be  otherwise.  Six  or  seven  hundred  Italians  are  dead 
or  wounded.  Among  them  are  many  officers,  those  of  Garibaldi 
especially,  who  are  much  exposed  by  their  daring  bravery,  and 
whose  red  tunic  makes  them  the  natural  mark  of  the  enemy.  It 
34 


398  THINGS    AND    THOUGHTS    IN    EUROPE. 

seems  to  me  great  folly  to  wear  such  a  dress  amid  the  dark  uni 
forms  ;  but  Garibaldi  has  always  done  it.  He  has  now  been 
wounded  twice  here  and  seventeen  times  in  Ancona. 

All  this  week  I  have  been  much  at  the  hospitals  where  are 
these  noble  sufferers.  They  are  full  of  enthusiasm;  this  time 
was  no  treason,  no  Vicenza,  no  Novara,  no  Milan.  They  had  not 
been  given  up  by  wicked  chiefs  at  the  moment  they  were  shed 
ding  their  blood,  and  they  had  conquered.  All  were  only  anxious 
to  get  out  again  and  be  at  their  posts.  They  seemed  to  feel  that 
those  who  died  so  gloriously  were  fortunate ;  perhaps  they  were, 
for  if  Rome  is  obliged  to  yield,  —  and  how  can  she  stand  always 
unaided  against  the  four  powers  ?  —  where  shall  these  noble  youths 
fly  ?  They  are  the  flower  of  the  Italian  youth  ;  especially  among 
the  Lombards  are  some  of  the  finest  young  men  I  have  ever  seen. 
If  Rome  falls,  if  Venice  falls,  there  is  no  spot  of  Italian  earth 
where  they  can  abide  more,  and  certainly  no  Italian  will  wish  to 
take  refuge  in  France.  Truly  you  said,  M.  Lesseps,  "  Violence 
and  friendship  are  incompatible." 

A  military  funeral  of  the  officer  Ramerino  was  sadly  pictu 
resque  and  affecting.  The  white-robed  priests  went  before  the 
body  singing,  while  his  brothers  in  arms  bore  the  lighted  tapers. 
His  horse  followed,  saddled  and  bridled.  The  horse  hung  his 
head  and  stepped  dejectedly  ;  he  felt  there  was  something  strange 
and  gloomy  going  on,  —  felt  that  his  master  was  laid  low.  Ra 
merino  left  a  wife  and  children.  A  great  proportion  of  those  who 
run  those  risks  are,  happily,  alone.  Parents  weep,  but  will  not 
suffer  long ;  their  grief  is  not  like  that  of  widows  and  children. 

Since  the  3d  we  have  only  cannonade  and  skirmishes.  The 
French  are  at  their  trenches,  but  cannot  advance  much ;  they  are 
too  much  molested  from  the  walls.  The  Romans  have  made  one 
very  successful  sortie.  The  French  availed  themselves  of  a  vio 
lent  thunderstorm,  when  the  walls  were  left  more  thinly  guarded, 
to  try  to  scale  them,  but  were  immediately  driven  back.  It  was 
thought  by  many  that  they  never  would  be  willing  to  throw  bo;:;bs 
and  shells  into  Rome,  but  they  do  whenever  they  can.  That 
generous  hope  and  faith  in  them  as  republicans  and  brothers, 


HAVOC    OF    THE    SIEGE.  399 

which  put  the  best  construction  on  their  actions,  and  believed  in 
their  truth  as  far  as  possible,  is  now  destroyed.  The  government 
is  false,  and  the  people  do  not  resist;  the  general  is  false,  and 
the  soldiers  obey. 

Meanwhile,  frightful  sacrifices  are  being  made  by  Rome.  All 
her  glorious  oaks,  all  her  gardens  of  delight,  her  casinos,  full  of 
the  monuments  of  genius  and  taste,  are  perishing  in  the  defence. 
The  houses,  the  trees  which  had  been  spared  at  the  gate  of  St. 
Pancrazio,  all  afforded  shelter  to  the  foe,  and  caused  so  much  loss 
of  life,  that  the  Romans  have  now  fully  acquiesced  in  destruction 
agonizing  to  witness.  Villa  Borghese  is  finally  laid  waste,  the  villa 
of  Raphael  has  perished,  the  trees  are  all  cut  down  at  Villa  Al- 
bani,  and  the  house,  that  most  beautiful  ornament  of  Rome,  must, 
I  suppose,  go  too.  The  stately  marble  forms  are  already  driven 
from  their  place  in  that  portico  where  Winckelmann  sat  and 
walked  with  such  delight.  Villa  Salvage  is  burnt,  with  all  its 
fine  frescos,  and  that  bank  of  the  Tiber  shorn  of  its  lovely  plan 
tations. 

Rome  will  never  recover  the  cruel  ravage  of  these  days,  per 
haps  only  just  begun.  I  had  often  thought  of  living  a  few  months 
near  St.  Peter's,  that  I  might  go  as  much  as  I  liked  to  the  church 
and  the  museum,  have  Villa  Pamfili  and  Monte  Mario  within 
the  compass  of  a  walk.  It  is  not  easy  to  find  lodgings  there, 
as  it  is  a  quarter  foreigners  never  inhabit ;  but,  walking  about 
to  see  what  pleasant  places  there  were,  I  had  fixed  my  eye  on  a 
clean,  simple  house  near  Ponte  St.  Angelo.  It  bore  on  a  tablet 
that  it  was  the  property  of  Angela  —  — ;  its  little  balconies  with 
their  old  wooden  rails,  full  of  flowers  in  humble  earthen  vases,  the 
many  bird-cages,  the  air  of  domestic  quiet  and  comfort,  marked  it 
as  the  home  of  some  vestal  or  widow,  some  lone  woman  whose 
heart  was  centred  in  the  ordinary  and  simplest  pleasures  of  a 
home.  I  saw  also  she  was  one  having  the  most  limited  income, 
and  I  thought,  "  She  will  not  refuse  to  let  me  a  room  for  a  few 
months,  as  I  shall  be  as  quiet  as  herself,  and  sympathize  about  the 
flowers  and  birds."  Now  the  Villa  Pamfili  is  all,  laid  waste.  The 
French  encamp  on  Monte  Mario ;  what  they  have  done  there  is 
not  known  yet.  The  cannonade  reverberates  all  day  under  the 


400  THINGS    AND    THOUGHTS    IN    EUROPE. 

dome  of  St.  Peter's,  and  the  house  of  poor  Angela  is  levelled  with 
the  ground.  I  hope  her  birds  and  the  white  peacocks  of  the  Vat 
ican  gardens  are  in  safety  ;  —  but  who  cares  for  gentle,  harmless 
creatures  now  ? 

I  have  been  often  interrupted  while  writing  this  letter,  and  sup 
pose  it  is  confused  as  well  as  incomplete.  I  hope  my  next  may 
tell  of  something  decisive  one  way  or  the  other.  News  is  not  yet 
come  from  Lesseps,  but  the  conduct  of  Oudinot  and  the  formation 
of  the  new  French  ministry  give  reason  to  hope  no  good.  Many 
seem  resolved  to  force  back  Pius  IX.  among  his  bleeding  flock, 
into  the  city  ruined  by  him,  where  he  cannot  remain,  and  if  he 
come,  all  this  struggle  and  sorrow  is  to  be  borne  over  again.  Maz- 
zini  stands  firm  as  a  rock.  I  know  not  whether  he  hopes  for  a 
successful  issue,  but  he  believes  in  a  God  bound  to  protect  men 
who  do  what  they  deem  their  duty.  Yet  how  long,  0  Lord,  shall 
the  few  trample  on  the  many  ? 

I  am  surprised  to  see  the  air  of  perfect  good  faith  with  which 
articles  from  the  London  Times,  upon  the  revolutionary  move 
ments,  are  copied  into  our  papers.  There  exists  not  in  Europe  a 
paper  more  violently  opposed  to  the  cause  of  freedom  than  the 
Times,  and  neither  its  leaders  nor  its  foreign  correspondence  are 
to  be  depended  upon.  It  is  said  to  receive  money  from  Austria. 
I  know  not  whether  this  be  true,  or  whether  it  be  merely 
subservient  to  the  aristocratical  feeling  of  England,  which  is  far 
more  opposed  to  republican  movements  than  is  that  of  Russia  ; 
for  in  England  fear  embitters  hate.  It  is  droll  to  remember  our 
reading  in  the  class-book, 

"  Ay,  down  to  the  dust  with  them,  slaves  as  they  are  " ;  — 

to  think  how  bitter  the  English  were  on  the  Italians  who  suc 
cumbed,  and  see  how  they  hate  those  who  resist.  And  their  cow 
ardice  here  in  Italy  is  ludicrous.  It  is  they  who  run  away  at  the 
least  intimation  of  danger,  —  it  is  they  who  invent  all  the  "  fe,  fb, 
fum  "  stories  about  Italy,  —  it  is  they  who  write  to  the  Times  and 
1  elsewhere  that  they  dare  not  for  their  lives  stay  in  Rome,  whore 
I,  a  woman,  walk  everywhere  alone,  and  all  the  little  children  do 
the  same,  with  their  nurses.  More  of  this  anon. 


LETTER    XXXII. 

Progress  of  the  Tragedy.  —  Pius  IX.  disavows  Liberalism.  —  Oudinot,  and 
the  Roman  Authorities.  —  Shame  of  France.  —  Devastation  of  the  City.  — 
Courage  of  the  People.  —  Bombs  extinguished.  —  A  Crisis  approaching.  , 

Eome,  June  21,  1849. 

IT  is  now  two  weeks  since  the  first  attack  of  Oudinot,  and  as 
yet  we  hear  nothing  decisive  from  Paris.  I  know  not  yet  what 
news  may  have  come  last  night,  but  by  the  morning's  mail  we  did 
not  even  receive  notice  that  Lesseps  had  arrived  in  Paris. 

Whether  Lesseps  was  consciously  the  servant  of  all  these  base 
intrigues,  time  will  show.  His  conduct  was  boyish  and  foolish, 
if  it  was  not  treacherous.  The  only  object  seemed  to  be  to 
create  panic,  to  agitate,  to  take  possession  of  Rome  somehow, 
though  what  to  do  with  it,  if  they  could  get  it,  the  French  govern 
ment  would  hardly  know. 

Pius  IX.,  in  his  allocution  of  the  29th  of  April  last,  has  ex 
plained  himself  fully.  He  has  disavowed  every  liberal  act  which 
ever  seemed  to  emanate  from  him,  with  the  exception  of  the  am 
nesty.  He  has  shamelessly  recalled  his  refusal  to  let  Austrian 
blood  be  shed,  while  Roman  flows  daily  at  his  request.  He  has 
implicitly  declared  that  his  future  government,  could  he  return, 
would  be  absolute  despotism,  —  has  dispelled  the  last  lingering 
illusion  of  those  still  anxious  to  apologize  for  him  as  only  a  pris 
oner  now  in  the  hands  of  the  Cardinals  and  the  king  of  Naples. 
The  last  frail  link  is  broken  that  bound  to  him  the  people  of 
Rome,  and  could  the  French  restore  him,  they  must  frankly  avow 
themselves,  abandon  entirely  and  fully  the  position  they  took  in 
February,  1848,  and  declare  themselves  the  allies  of  Austria  and 
of  Russia. 

34* 


4.02  THINGS    AND    THOUGHTS    IN    EUROPE. 

Meanwhile  they  persevere  in  the  Jesuitical  policy  that  has 
already  disgraced  and  is  to  ruin  them.  After  a  week  of  vain 
assaults,  Oudinot  sent  to  Rome  the  following  letter,  which  I  trans 
late,  as  well  as  the  answers  it  elicited. 

LETTER  OF  GENERAL  OUDINOT, 

Intended  for  the  Roman  Constituent  Assembly,  the  Triumvirate,  the 

Generalissimo,  and  the    Commander-in-  Chief  of  the  National 

Guard. 

"  General,  —  The  events  of  war  have,  as  you  know,  conducted 
the  French  army  to  the  gates  of  Rome. 

"  Should  the  entrance  into  the  city  remain  closed  against  us,  I 
should  see  myself  constrained  to  employ  immediately  all  the 
means  of  action  that  France  has  placed  in  my  hands. 

"  Before  having  recourse  to  such  terrible  necessity,  I  think  it 
my  duty  to  make  a  last  appeal  to  a  people  who  cannot  have  to 
ward  France  sentiments  of  hostility. 

"  The  Roman  army  wishes,  no  doubt,  equally  with  myself,  to 
spare  bloody  ruin  to  the  capital  of  the  Christian  world. 

"  With  this  conviction,  I  pray  you,  Signore  General,  to  give  the 
enclosed  proclamation  the  most  speedy  publicity.  If,  twelve  hours 
after  this  despatch  shall  have  been  delivered  to  you,  an  answer 
corresponding  to  the  honor  and  the  intentions  of  France  shall 
not  have  reached  me,  I  shall  be  constrained  to  give  the  forcible 
attack. 

"Accept,  &c. 
"  Villa  Pamfili,  12  June,  1849,  5  P.  M." 

He  was  in  fact  at  Villa  Santucci,  much  farther  out,  but  could 
not  be  content  without  falsifying  his  date  as  well  as  all  his  state 
ments. 

"  PROCLAMATION. 

"  Inhabitants  of  Rome,  —  We  did  not  come  to  bring  you  war. 
We  came  to  sustain  among  you  order,  with  liberty.  The  inten 
tions  of  our  government  have  been  misunderstood.  The  labors 


ANSWERS    TO    OUDINOT.  403 

of  the  siege  have  conducted  us  under  your  walls.  Till  now  we 
have  wished  only  occasionally  to  answer  the  fire  of  your  batter 
ies.  We  approach  these  last  moments,  when  the  necessities  of 
war  burst  out  in  terrible  calamities.  Spare  them  to  a  city  full  of 
so  many  glorious  memories. 

"  If  you  persist  in  repelling  us,  on  you  alone  will  fall  the  re 
sponsibility  of  irreparable  disasters." 

The  following  are  the  answers  of  the  various  functionaries  to 
whom  this  letter  was  sent :  — 

ANSWER  OF  THE  ASSEMBLY. 

"  General,  —  The  Roman  Constitutional  Assembly  informs  you, 
in  reply  to  your  despatch  of  yesterday,  that,  having  concluded  a 
convention  from  the  31st  of  May,  1849,  with  M.  de  Lesseps, 
Minister  Plenipotentiary  of  the  French  Republic,  a  convention 
which  we  confirmed  soon  after  your  protest,  it  must  consider  that 
convention  obligatory  for  both  parties,  and  indeed  a  safeguard  of 
the  rights  of  nations,  until  it  has  been  ratified  or  declined  by  the 
government  of  France.  Therefore  the  Assembly  must  regard  as 
a  violation  of  that  convention  every  hostile  act  of  the  French 
army  since  the  above-named  31st  of  May,  and  all  others  that  shall 
take  place  before  the  resolution  of  your  government  can  be  made 
known,  and  before  the  expiration  of  the  time  agreed  upon  for  the 
armistice.  You  demand,  General,  an  answer  correspondent  to 
the  intentions  and  power  of  France.  Nothing  could  be  more  con 
formable  with  the  intentions  and  power  of  France  than  to  cease 
a  flagrant  violation  of  the  rights  of  nations. 

"  Whatever  may  be  the  results  of  such  violation,  the  people  of 
Rome  are  not  responsible  for  them.  Rome  is  strong  in  its  right, 
and  decided  to  maintain  the  conventions  which  attach  it  to  your 
nation ;  only  it  finds  itself  constrained  by  the  necessity  of  self- 
defence  to  repel  unjust  aggressions. 

"  Accept,  &c.,  for  the  Assembly, 

"  The  President,  GALLETTI. 

"  Secretaries,  FABRETTI,  PANNACCHI,  Coccm." 


404  THINGS    AND    THOUGHTS    IN    EUROPE. 

"ANSWER  OF  THE  COMMANDER-IN-CHIEF  OF  THE  NATIONAL 

GUARD. 

"  General,  —  The  treaty,  of  which  we  await  the  ratification, 
assures  this  tranquil  city  from  every  disaster. 

"  The  National  Guard,  destined  to  maintain  order,  has  the  duty 
of  seconding  the  resolutions  of  the  government ;  willingly  and  zeal 
ously  it  fulfils  this  duty,  not  caring  for  annoyance  and  fatigue. 

"  The  National  Guard  showed  very  lately,  when  it  escorted  the 
prisoners  sent  back  to  you,  its  sympathy  for  France,  but  it  shows 
also  on  every  occasion  a  supreme  regard  for  its  own  dignity,  for 
the  honor  of  Rome. 

"  Any  misfortune  to  the  capital  of  the  Catholic  world,  to  the 
monumental  city,  must  be  attributed  not  to  the  pacific  citizens 
constrained  to  defend  themselves,  but  solely  to  its  aggressors. 
"  Accept,  &c. 

"  STURBINETTI, 

General  of  the  National  Guard,  Repre 
sentative  of  the  People" 

ANSWER  OF  THE  GENERALISSIMO. 

"  Citizen  General,  —  A  fatality  leads  to  conflict  between  the 
armies  of  two  republics,  whom  a  better  destiny  would  have  in 
vited  to  combat  against  their  common  enemy  ;  for  the  enemies 
of  the  one  cannot  fail  to  be  also  enetaies  of  the  other. 

"  We  are  not  deceived,  and  shall  combat  by  every  means  in  our 
power  whoever  assails  our  institutions,  for  only  the  brave  are  wor 
thy  to  stand  before  the  French  soldiers. 

"  Reflecting  that  there  is  a  state  of  life  worse  than  death,  if  the 
war  you  wage  should  put  us  in  that  state,  it  will  be  better  to  close 
our  eyes  for  ever  than  to  see  the  interminable  oppressions  of  our 
country. 

"  I  wish  you  well,  and  desire  fraternity. 

"  ROSSELLI." 

ANSWER  OF  THE  TRIUMVIRATE. 

"  We  have  the  honor  to  transmit  to  you  the  answer  of  the  As 
sembly. 


INFAMOUS    CONDUCT    OF   FRANCE.  405 

"  We  never  break  our  promises.  We  have  promised  to  defend, 
in  execution  of  orders  from  the  Assembly  and  people  of  Rome, 
the  banner  of  the  Republic,  the  honor  of  the  country,  and  the  sanc 
tity  of  the  capital  of  the  Christian  world ;  this  promise  we  shall 
maintain. 

"Accept,  &c. 

"  The  Triumvirs, 

ARMELLINI. 

MAZZINI. 

SAFFI." 

Observe  the  miserable  evasion  of  this  missive  of  Oudinot : 
"  The  fortune  of  war  has  conducted  us."  What  war  ?  lie  pre 
tended  to  come  as  a  friend,  a  protector  ;  is  enraged  only  because, 
after  his  deceits  at  Civita  Vecchia,  Rome  will  not  trust  him  within 
her  walls.  For  this  he  daily  sacrifices  hundreds  of  lives.  "  The 
Roman  people  cannot  be  hostile  to  the  French  ?  "  No,  indeed  ; 
they  were  not  disposed  to  be  so.  They  had  been  stirred  to  emu 
lation  by  the  example  of  France.  They  had  warmly  hoped  in 
her  as  their  true  ally.  It  required  all  that  Oudinot  has  done  to 
turn  their  faith  to  contempt  and  aversion. 

Cowardly  man !  He  knows  now  that  he  comes  upon  a  city 
which  wished  to  receive  him  only  as  a  friend,  and  he  cries, 
"  With  my  cannon,  with  my  bombs,  I  will  compel  you  to  let 
me  betray  you." 

The  conduct  of  France  —  infamous  enough  before  —  looks 
tenfold  blacker  now  that,  while  the  so-called  Plenipotentiary  is 
absent  with  the  treaty  to  be  ratified,  her  army  daily  assails  Rome, 
—  assails  in  vain.  After  receiving  these  answers  to  his  letter  and 
proclamation,  Oudinot  turned  all  the  force  of  his  cannonade  to 
make  a  breach,  and  began,  what  no  one,  even  in  these  days,  has 
believed  possible,  the  bombardment  of  Rome. 

Yes  !  the  French,  who  pretend  to  be  the  advanced  guard  of 
civilization,  are  bombarding  Rome.  They  dare  take  the  risk  o: 
destroying  the  richest  bequests  made  to  man  by  the  great  Past. 
Nay,  they  seem  to  do  it  in  an  especially  barbarous  manner.  It 
was  thought  they  would  avoid,  as  much  as  possible,  the  hospitals 


406  THINGS    AND    THOUGHTS    IN    EUROPE. 

for  the  wounded,  marked  to  their  view  by  the  black  banner,  and 
the  places  where  are  the  most  precious  monuments ;  but  several 
bombs  have  fallen  on  the  chief  hospital,  and  the  Capitol  evidently 
is  especially  aimed  at.  They  made  a  breach  in  the  wall,  but  it 
was  immediately  filled  up  with  a  barricade,  and  all  the  week  they 
have  been  repulsed  in  every  attempt  they  made  to  gain  ground, 
though  with  considerable  loss  of  life  on  our  side ;  on  theirs  it  must 
be  great,  but  how  great  we  cannot  know. 

Ponte  Molle,  the  scene  of  Raphael's  fresco  of  a  battle,  in  the 
Vatican,  saw  again  a  fierce  struggle  last  Friday.  More  than  fifty 
were  brought  wounded  into  Rome. 

But  wounds  and  assaults  only  fire  more  and  more  the  courage 
of  her  defenders.  They  feel  the  justice  of  their  cause,  and  the 
peculiar  iniquity  of  this  aggression.  In  proportion  as  there  seems 
little  aid  to  be  hoped  from  man,  they  seem  to  claim  it  from  God. 
The  noblest  sentiments  are  heard  from  every  lip,  and,  thus  far, 
their  acts  amply  correspond. 

On  the  eve  of  the  bombardment  one  or  two  officers  went  round 
with  a  fine  band.  It  played  on  the  piazzas  the  Marseillaise  and 
Roman  marches ;  and  when  the  people  were  thus  assembled,  they 
were  told  of  the  proclamation,  and  asked  how  they  felt.  Many 
shouted  loudly,  Guerra!  Vivala  RcpuUica  Romana  !  Afterward, 
bands  of  young  men  went  round  singing  the  chorus, 

"  Vogliamo  sempre  quella, 
Vogliamo  Liberia." 

("  We  want  always  one  thing  ;  we  want  liberty.")  Guitars  played, 
and  some  danced.  When  the  bombs  began  to  come,  one  of  the 
Trasteverini,  those  noble  images  of  the  old  Roman  race,  redeemed 
her  claim  to  that  descent  by  seizing  a  bomb  and  extinguishing 
the  match.  She  received  a  medal  and  a  reward  in  money.  A 
soldier  did  the  same  thing  at  Palazza  Spada,  where  is  the  statue 
of  Pompey,  at  whose  base  great  Caesar  fell.  He  was  promoted. 
Immediately  the  people  were  seized  with  emulation  ;  armed  with 
pans  of  wet  clay,  they  ran  wherever  the  bombs  fell,  to  extinguish 
them.  Women  collect  the  balls  from  the  hostile  cannon,  and  carry 
them  to  ours.  As  thus  very  little  injury  has  been  done  to  life, 


NOBLE    MEN    SACRIFICED.  407 

the  people  cry,  "  Madonna  protects  us  against  the  bombs ;  she 
wills  not  that  Rome  should  be  destroyed." 

Meanwhile  many  poor  people  are  driven  from  their  homes,  and 
provisions  are  growing  very  dear.  The  heats  are  now  terrible  for 
us,  and  must  be  far  more  so  for  the  French.  It  is  said  a  vast 
number  are  ill  of  fever  ;  indeed,  it  cannot  be  otherwise.  Oudinot 
himself  has  it,  and  perhaps  this  is  one  explanation  of  the  mixture 
of  violence  and  weakness  in  his  actions. 

He  must  be  deeply  ashamed  at  the  poor  result  of  his  bad  acts, 
—  that  at  the  end  of  two  weeks  and  so  much  bravado,  he  has  done 
nothing  to  Rome,  unless  intercept  provisions,  kill  some  of  her 
brave  youth,  and  injure  churches,  which  should  be  sacred  to  him 
as  to  us.  St.  Maria  Trastevere,  that  ancient  church,  so  full  of 
precious  remains,  and  which  had  an  air  of  mild  repose  more  beau 
tiful  than  almost  any  other,  is  said  to  have  suffered  particularly. 

As  to  the  men  who  die,  I  share  the  impassioned  sorrow  of  the 
Triumvirs.  "  0  Frenchmen  !  "  they  wrote,  "  could  you  know  what 
men  you  destroy !  They  are  no  mercenaries,  like  those  who  fill 
your  ranks,  but  the  flower  of  the  Italian  youth,  and  the  noblest 
among  the  aged.  When  you  shall  know  of  what  minds  you  have 
robbed  the  world,  how  ought  you  to  repent  and  mourn ! " 

This  is  especially  true  of  the  Emigrant  and  Garibaldi  legions. 
The  misfortunes  of  Northern  and  Southern  Italy,  the  conscription 
which  compels  to  the  service  of  tyranny  those  who  remain,  has 
driven  from  the  kingdom  of  Naples  and  from  Lombardy  all  the 
brave  and  notrle  youth.  Many  are  in  Venice  or  Rome,  the  for 
lorn  hope  of  Italy.  Radetzky,  every  day  more  cruel,  now  im 
presses  aged  men  and  the  fathers  of  large  families.  He  carries 
them  with  him  in  chains,  determined,  if  he  cannot  have  good 
troops  to  send  into  Hungary,  at  least  to  revenge  himself  on  the 
unhappy  Lombards. 

Many  of  these  young  men,  students  from  Pisa,  Pavia,  Padua, 
and  the  Roman  University,  lie  wounded  in  the  hospitals,  for  natu 
rally  they  rushed  first  to  the  combat.  One  kissed  an  arm  which 
was  cut  off;  another  preserves  pieces  of  bone  which  were  pain 
fully  extracted  from  his  wound,  as  relics  of  the  best  days  of  his 


408  THINGS    AND    THOUGHTS    IN    EUROPE. 

life.  The  older  men,  many  of  whom  have  been  saddened  by- 
exile  and  disappointment,  less  glowing,  are  not  less  resolved. 
A  spirit  burns  noble  as  ever  animated  the  most  precious  deeds  we 
treasure  from  the  heroic  age.  I  suffer  to  see  these  temples  of  the 
soul  thus  broken,  to  see  the  fever-weary  days  and  painful  opera 
tions  undergone  by  these  noble  men,  these  true  priests  of  a  higher 
hope ;  but  I  would  not,  for  much,  have  missed  seeing  it  all. 
The  memory  of  it  will  console  amid  the  spectacles  of  meanness, 
selfishness,  and  faithlessness  which  life  may  yet  have  in  store,  for 
the  pilgrim. 

June  23. 

Matters  verge  to  a  crisis.  The  French  government  sustains 
Oudinot  and  disclaims  Lesseps.  Harmonious  throughout,  shame 
less  in  falsehood,  it  seems  Oudinot  knew  that  the  mission  of  Les 
seps  was  at  an  end,  when  he  availed  himself  of  his  pacific  prom 
ises  to  occupy  Monte  Mario.  When  the  Romans  were  anxious 
at  seeing  French  troops  move  in  that  direction,  Lesseps  said  it 
was  only  done  to  occupy  them,  and  conjured  the  Romans  to  avoid 
all  collision  which  might  prevent  his  success  with  the  treaty. 
The  sham  treaty  was  concluded  on  the  30th  of  May,  a  detachment 
of  French  having  occupied  Monte  Mario  on  the  night  of  the  29th. 
Oudinot  flies  into  a  rage  and  refuses  to  sign  ;  M.  Lesseps  goes  off 
to  Paris  ;  meanwhile,  the  brave  Oudinot  attacks  on  the  3d  of  June, 
after  writing  to  the  French  Consul  that  he  should  not  till  the  4th, 
to  leave  time  for  the  foreigners  remaining  to  retire.  He  attacked 
in  the  night,  possessing  himself  of  Villa  Pamfili,*  as  he  had  of 
Monte  Mario,  by  treachery  and  surprise. 

Meanwhile,  M.  Lesseps  arrives  in  Paris,  to  find  himself  seem 
ingly  or  really  in  great  disgrace  with  the  would-be  Emperor  and 
his  cabinet.  To  give  reason  for  this,  M.  Drouyn  de  Lhuys,  who 
had  publicly  declared  to  the  Assembly  that  M.  Lesseps  had  no 
instructions  except  from  the  report  of  the  sitting  of  the  7th  of  May, 
shamefully  publishes  a  letter  of  special  instructions,  hemming  him 
in  on  every  side,  which  M.  Lesseps,  the  "  Plenipotentiary,"  dares 
not  disown. 

What  are  we  to  think  of  a  great  nation,  whose  leading  men 


THE    CRISIS    APPROACHING.  409 

are  such  barefaced  liars?  M.  Guizot  finds  his  creed  faithfully 
followed  up. 

The  liberal  party  in  France  does  what  it  can  to  wash  its  hands 
of  this  offence,  but  it  seems  weak,  and  unlikely  to  render  effect 
ual  service  at  this  crisis.  Venice,  Rome,  Ancona,  are  the  last 
strong-holds  of  hope,  and  they  cannot  stand  for  ever  thus  unsus- 
tained.  Night  before  last,  a  tremendous  cannonade  left  no  moment 
to  sleep,  even  had  the  anxious  hearts  of  mothers  and  wives  been 
able  to  crave  it.  At  morning  a  little  detachment  of  French  had 
entered  by  the  breach  of  St.  Pancrazio,  and  intrenched  itself  in  a 
vineyard.  Another  has  possession  of  Villa  Poniatowski,  close  to 
the  Porta  del  Popolo,  and  attacks  and  alarms  are  hourly  to  be 
expected.  I  long  to  see  the  final  one,  dreadful  as  that  hour  may 
be,  since  now  there  seems  no  hope  from  delay.  Men  are  daily 
slain,  and  tliis  state  of  suspense  is  agonizing. 

In  the  evening  't  is  pretty,  though  terrible,  to  see  the  bombs, 
fiery  meteors,  springing  from  the  horizon  line  upon  their  bright 
path,  to  do  their  wicked  message.  'T  would  not  be  so  bad,  me- 
thinks,  to  die  by  one  of  these,  as  wait  to  have  every  drop  of  pure 
blood,  every  childlike  radiant  hope,  drained  and  driven  from  the 
heart  by  the  betrayals  of  nations  and  of  individuals,  till  at  last 
the  sickened  eyes  refuse  more  to  open  to  that  light  which  shines 
daily  on  such  pits  of  iniquity. 


LETTER    XXXIII. 

Siege  of  Rome.  — Heat.  — Night  Attacks.— The  Bombardment.  —  The  Night 
Breach.  —  Defection.  —  Entry  of  the  French.  —  Slaughter  of  the  Romans.  — 
The  Hospitals.  —  Destruction  by  Bombs.  — "Cessation  of  Resistance.  —  Oudi- 
not's  Stubbornness.  —  Garibaldi's  Troops.  —  Their  Muster  on  the  Scene  of 
Rienzi's  Triumph.  —  Garibaldi.  —  His  Departure.  —  "  Respectable  "  Opinion. 

—  The  Protectors    unmasked.  —  Cold  Reception.  —  A  Priest  assassinated.  — 
Martial  Law  declared.  —  Republican  Education.  —  Disappearance  of  French 
Soldiers.  —  Clearing  the  Hospitals.  —  Priestly  Baseness.  —  Insult  to  the  Amer 
ican  Consul. —  His  Protest  and  Departure.  —  Disarming  the  National  Guard. 

—  Position  of  Mr.  Cass. — Petty  Oppression.  —  Expulsion  of  Foreigners. — 
Effect  of  French  Presence.  —  Address  to  the  People.  —  Visit  to  the  Scene  of 
Strife.  —  American  Sympathy  for  Liberty  in  Europe. 

Rome,  July  6,  1849. 

IF  I  mistake  not,  I  closed  my  last  letter  just  as  the  news  ar 
rived  here  that  the  attempt  of  the  democratic  party  in  France  to 
resist  the  infamous  proceedings  of  the  government  had  failed,  and 
thus  Rome,  as  far  as  human  calculation  went,  had  not  a  hope  for 
her  liberties  left.  An  inland  city  cannot  long  sustain  a  siege 
when  there  is  no  hope  of  aid.  Then  followed  the  news  of  the 
surrender  of  Ancona,  and  Rome  found  herself  alone ;  for,  though 
Venice  continued  to  hold  out,  all  communication  was  cut  off. 

The  Republican  troops,  almost  to  a  man,  left  Ancona,  but  a 
long  march  separated  them  from  Rome. 

The  extreme  heat  of  these  days  was  far  more  fatal  to  the  Ro 
mans  than  to  their  assailants,  for  as  fast  as  the  French  troops  sick 
ened,  their  place  was  taken  by  fresh  arrivals.  Ours  also  not  only 
sustained  the  exhausting  service  by  day,  but  were  harassed  at  night 
by  attacks,  feigned  or  real.  These  commonly  began  about  eleven 
or  twelve  o'clock  at  night,  just  when  all  who  meant  to  rest  were 
fairly  asleep.  I  can  imagine  the  harassing  effect  upon  the  troops, 


THE  FRENCH  ENTER  ROME.  411 

from  what  I  feel  in  my  sheltered  pavilion,  in  consequence  of  not 
knowing  a  quiet  night's  sleep  for  a  month. 

The  bombardment  became  constantly  more  serious.  The  house 
where  I  live  was  filled  as  early  as  the  20th  with  persons  obliged 
to  fly  from  the  Piazza  di  Gesu,  where  the  fiery  rain  fell  thickest. 
The  night  of  the  21st  ~  22d,  we  were  all  alarmed  about  two 
o'clock,  A.  M.  by  a  tremendous  cannonade.  It  was  the  moment 
when  the  breach  was  finally  made  by  which  the  French  entered. 
They  rushed  in,  and  I  grieve  to  say,  that,  by  the  only  instance  of 
defection  known  in  the  course  of  the  siege,  those  companies  of  the 
regiment  Union  which  had  in  charge  a  position  on  that  point 
yielded  to  panic  and  abandoned  it.  The  French  immediately 
entered  and  intrenched  themselves.  That  was  the  fatal  hour  for 
the  city.  Every  day  afterward,  though  obstinately  resisted,  the 
enemy  gained,  till  at  last,  their  cannon  being  well  placed,  the  city 
was  entirely  commanded  from  the  Janiculum,  and  all  thought  of 
further  resistance  was  idle. 

It  was  true  policy  to  avoid  a  street-fight,  in  which  the  Italian, 
an  unpractised  soldier,  but  full  of  feeling  and  sustained  from  the 
houses,  would  have  been  a  match  even  for  their  disciplined  troops. 
After  the  22d  of  June,  the  slaughter  of  the  Romans  became  every 
day  more  fearful.  Their  defences  were  knocked  down  by  the  heavy 
cannon  of  the  French,  and,  entirely  exposed  in  their  valorous  on 
sets,  great  numbers  perished  on  the  spot.  Those  who  were 
brought  into  the  hospitals  were  generally  grievously  wounded, 
very  commonly  subjects  for  amputation.  My  heart  bled  daily 
more  and  more  at  these  sights,  and  I  could  not  feel  much  for  my 
self,  though  now  the  balls  and  bombs  began  to  fall  round  me  also. 
The  night  of  the  28th  the  effect  was  truly  fearful,  as  they  whizzed 
and  burst  near  me.  As  many  as  thirty  fell  upon  or  near  the 
Hotel  de  Russie,  where  Mr.  Cass  has  his  temporary  abode.  The 
roof  of  the  studio  in  the  pavilion,  tenanted  by  Mr.  S termer,  well 
known  to  the  visitors  of  Rome  for  his  highly-finished  cabinet  pic 
tures,  was  torn  to  pieces.  I  sat  alone  in  my  much  exposed  apart 
ment,  thinking,  "If  one  strikes  me,  I  only  hope  it  will  kill  me  at 
once,  and  that  God  will  transport  my  soul  to  some  sphere  where 


412  THINGS    AND    THOUGHTS    IN    EUROPE. 

virtue  and  love  are  not  tyrannized  over  by  egotism  and  brute 
force,  as  in  this."  However,  that  night  passed ;  the  next,  we  had 
reason  to  expect  a  still  more  fiery  salute  toward  the  Pincian,  as 
here  alone  remained  three  or  four  pieces  of  cannon  which  could  be 
used.  But  on  the  morning  of  the  30th,  in  a  contest  at  the  foot  of 
the  Janiculum,  the  line,  old  Papal  troops,  naturally  not  in  earnest 
like  the  free  corps,  refused  to  fight  against  odds  so  terrible. 
The  heroic  Marina  fell,  with  hundreds  of  his  devoted  Lombards. 
Garibaldi  saw  his  best  officers  perish,  and  himself  went  in  the 
afternoon  to  say  to  the  Assembly  that  further  resistance  was 
unavailing. 

The  Assembly  sent  to  Oudinot,  but  he  refused  any  conditions, — 
refused  even  to  guarantee  a  safe  departure  to  Garibaldi,  his  brave 
foe.  Notwithstanding,  a  great  number  of  men  left  the  other  regi 
ments  to  follow  the  leader  whose  courage  had  captivated  them, 
and  whose  superiority  over  difficulties  commanded  their  entire 
confidence.  Toward  the  evening  of  Monday,  the  2d  of  July,  it 
was  known  that  the  French  were  preparing  to  cross  the  river  and 
take  possession  of  all  the  city.  I  went  into  the  Corso  with  some 
friends ;  it  was  filled  with  citizens  and  military.  The  carriage  was 
stopped  by  the  crowd  near  the  Doria  palace ;  the  lancers  of  Gari 
baldi  galloped  along  in  full  career.  I  longed  for  Sir  Walter  Scott 
to  be  on  earth  again,  and  see  them  ;  all  are  light,  athletic,  resolute 
figures,  many  of  the  forms  of  the  finest  manly  beauty  of  the  South, 
all  sparkling  with  its  genius  and  ennobled  by  the  resolute  spirit, 
ready  to  dare,  to  do,  to  die.  We  followed  them  to  the  piazza  of  St. 
John  Lateran.  Never  have  I  seen  a  sight  so  beautiful,  so  roman 
tic,  and  so  sad.  Whoever  knows  Rome  knows  the  peculiar  sol 
emn  grandeur  of  that  piazza,  scene  of  the  first  triumph  of  Rienzi, 
and  whence  may  be  seen  the  magnificence  of  the  "  mother  of  all 
churches,"  the  baptistery  with  its  porphyry  columns,  the  Santa  Scala 
with  its  glittering  mosaics  of  the  early  ages,  the  obelisk  standing 
fairest  of  any  of  those  most  imposing  monuments  of  Rome,  the  view 
through  the  gates  of  the  Campagna,  on  that  side  so  richly  strewn 
with  ruins.  The  sun  was  setting,  the  crescent  moon  rising,  the  flower 
of  the  Italian  youth  were  marshalling  in  that  solemn  place.  They 


DEPARTURE    OF    GARIBALDI.  413 

had  been  driven  from  every  other  spot  where  they  had  offered 
their  hearts  as  bulwarks  of  Italian  independence ;  in  this  last 
strong-hold  they  had  sacrificed  hecatombs  of  their  best  and  bravest 
in  that  cause  ;  they  must  now  go  or  remain  prisoners  and  slaves. 

Where  go,  they  knew  not;  for  except  distant  Hungary  there  is  not 
now  a  spot  which  would  receive  them,  or  where  they  can  act  as 
honor  commands.  They  had  all  put  on  the  beautiful  dress  of  the 

Garibaldi  legion,  the  tunic  of  bright  red  cloth,  the  Greek  cap,  or 
else  round  hat  with  Puritan  plume.  Their  long  hair  was  blown 
back  from  resolute  faces  ;  all  looked  full  of  courage.  They  had 
counted  the  cost  before  they  entered  on  this  perilous  struggle ; 
they  had  weighed  life  and  all  its  material  advantages  against  lib 
erty,  and  made  their  election  ;  they  turned  not  back,  nor  flinched, 
at  this  bitter  crisis.  I  saw  the  wounded,  all  that  could  go,  laden 
upon  their  baggage  cars ;  some  were  already  pale  and  fainting, 
still  they  wished  to  go.  I  saw  many  youths,  born  to  rich  inherit 
ance,  carrying  in  a  handkerchief  all  their  worldly  goods.  The 
women  were  ready ;  their  eyes  too  were  resolved,  if  sad.  The 
wife  of  Garibaldi  followed  him  on  horseback.  He  himself  was 
distinguished  by  the  white  tunic ;  his  look  was  entirely  that  of  a 
hero  of  the  Middle  Ages,  —  his  face  still  young,  for  the  excitements 
of  his  life,  though  so  many,  have  all  been  youthful,  and  there  is 
no  fatigue  upon  his  brow  or  cheek.  Fall  or  stand,  one  sees  in 
him  a  man  engaged  in  the  career  for  which  he  is  adapted  by 
nature.  He  went  upon  the  parapet,  and  looked  upon  the  road 
with  a  spy-glass,  and,  no  obstruction  being  in  sight,  he  turned  his 
face  for  a  moment  back  upon  Rome,  then  led  the  way  through 
the  gate.  Hard  was  the  heart,  stony  and  seared  the  eye,  that  had 
no  tear  for  that  moment.  Go,  fated,  gallant  band !  and  if  God 
care  not  indeed  for  men  as  for  the  sparrows,  most  of  ye  go  forth 
to  perish.  And  Rome,  anew  the  Niobe  !  Must  she  lose  also 
these  beautiful  and  brave,  that  promised  her  regeneration,  and 
would  have  given  it,  but  for  the  perfidy,  the  overpowering 
force,  of  the  foreign  intervention  ? 

I  know  that  many  "  respectable  "  gentlemen  would  be  surprised 
to  hear  me  speak  in  this  way.     Gentlemen  who  perform  their 
35* 


414  THINGS    AND    THOUGHTS    IN    EUROPE. 

"  duties  to  society  "  by  buying  for  themselves  handsome  clothes 
and  furniture  with  the  interest  of  their  money,  speak  of  Garibaldi 
and  his  men  as  "  brigands  "  and  "  vagabonds."  Such  are  they, 
doubtless,  in  the  same  sense  as  Jesus,  Moses,  and  Eneas  were. 
To  me,  men  who  can  throw  so  lightly  aside  the  ease  of  wealth, 
the  joys  of  affection,  for  the  sake  of  what  they  deem  honor,  in 
whatsoever  form,  are  the  "  respectable."  No  doubt  there  are 
in  these  bands  a  number  of  men  of  lawless  minds,  and  who 
follow  this  banner  only  because  there  is  for  them  no  other  path. 
But  the  greater  part  are  the  noble  youths  who  have  fled  from  the 
Austrian  conscription,  or  fly  now  from  the  renewal  of  the  Papal 
suffocation,  darkened  by  French  protection. 

As  for  the  protectors,  they  entirely  threw  aside  the  mask,  as  it 
was  always  supposed  they  would,  the  moment  they  had  possession 
of  Rome.  I  do  not  know  whether  they  were  really  so  bewildered 
by  their  priestly  counsellors  as  to  imagine  they  would  be  well  re 
ceived  in  a  city  which  they  had  bombarded,  and  where  twelve 
hundred  men  were  lying  wounded  by  their  assault.  To  say 
nothing  of  the  justice  or  injustice  of  the  matter,  it  could  not  be 
supposed  that  the  Roman  people,  if  it  had  any  sense  of  dignity, 
would  welcome  them.  I  did  not  appear  in  the  street,  as  I  would 
not  give  any  countenance  to  such  a  wrong;  but  an  English  lady, 
my  friend,  told  me  they  seemed  to  look  expectingly  for  the  strong 
party  of  friends  they  had  always  pretended  to  have  within  the 
walls.  The  French  officers  looked  up  to  the  windows  for  ladies, 
and,  she  being  the  only  one  they  saw,  saluted  her.  She  made  no 
reply.  They  then  passed  into  the  Corso.  Many  were  assembled, 
the  softer  Romans  being  unable  to  control  a  curiosity  the  Milan 
ese  would  have  disclaimed,  but  preserving  an  icy  silence.  In  an 
evil  hour,  a  foolish  priest  dared  to  break  it  by  the  cry  of  Viva  Pio 
Nono  !  The  populace,  roused  to  fury,  rushed  on  him  with  their 
knives.  He  was  much  wounded  ;  one  or  two  others  were  killed 
in  the  rush.  The  people  howled  then,  and  hissed  at  the  French, 
who,  advancing  their  bayonets,  and  clearing  the  way  before  them, 
fortified  themselves  in  the  piazzas.  Next  day  the  French  troops 
were  marched  to  and  fro  through  Rome,  to  inspire  awe  in  the 


MARTIAL    LAW    DECLARED.  415 

people  ;  but  it  has  only  created  a  disgust  amounting  to  loathing,  to 
see  that,  with  such  an  imposing  force,  and  in  great  part  fresh,  the 
French  were  not  ashamed  to  use  bombs  also,  and  kill  women  and 
children  in  their  beds.  Oudinot  then,  seeing  the  feeling  of  the 
people,  and  finding  they  pursued  as  a  spy  any  man  who  so  much 
as  showed  the  way  to  his  soldiers,  —  that  the  Italians  went  out  of 
the  cafes  if  Frenchmen  entered,  —  in  short,  that  the  people  re 
garded  him  and  his  folio  Avers  in  the  same  light  as  the  Austri- 
ans,  —  has  declared  martial  law  in  Rome ;  the  press  is  stifled ; 
everybody  is  to  be  in  the  house  at  half  past  nine  o'clock  in  the 
evening,  and  whoever  in  any  way  insults  his  men,  or  puts  any 
obstacle  in  their  way,  is  to  be  shot. 

The  fruit?  of  all  this  will  be  the  same  as  elsewhere ;  temporary 
repression  will  sow  the  seeds  of  perpetual  resistance  ;  and  never 
was  Rome  in  so  fair  a  way  to  be  educated  for  a  republican 
form  of  government  as  now. 

Especially  could  nothing  be  more  irritating  to  an  Italian 
population,  in  the  month  of  July,  than  to  drive  them  to  their 
homes  at  half  past  nine.  After  the  insupportable  heat  of  the 
day,  their  only  enjoyment  and  refreshment  are  found  in  evening 
walks,  and  chats  together  as  they  sit  before  their  cafes,  or  in 
groups  outside  some  friendly  door.  Now  they  must  hurry  home 
when  the  drum  beats  at  nine  o'clock.  They  are  forbidden  to 
stand  or  sit  in  groups,  and  this  by  their  bombarding  protector  ! 
Comment  is  unnecessary. 

French  soldiers  are  daily  missing ;  of  some  it  is  known  that 
they  have  been  killed  by  the  Trasteverini  for  daring  to  make  court 
to  their  women.  Of  more  than  a  hundred  and  fifty,  it  is  only 
known  that  they  cannot  be  found  ;  and  in  two  days  of  French 
"  order  "  more  acts  of  violence  have  been  committed,  than  in  two 
months  under  the  Triumvirate. 

The  French  have  taken  up  their  quarters  in  the  court-yards 
ohS^e  Quirinal  and  Venetian  palaces,  which  are  full  of  the 
wounded,  many  of  whom  have  been  driven  well-nigh  mad,  and 
their  burning  wounds  exasperated,  by  the  sound  of  the  drums 
and  trumpets,  —  the  constant  sense  of  an  insulting  presence.  The 


416  THINGS    AND    THOUGHTS    IN    EUROPE. 

wounded  have  been  warned  to  leave  the  Quirinal  at  the  end  of 
eight  days,  though  there  are  many  who  cannot  be  moved  from 
bed  to  bed  without  causing  them  great  anguish  and  peril ;  nor  is 
it  known  that  any  other  place  has  been  provided  as  a  hospital 
for  them.  At  the  Palazzo  di  Venezia  the  French  have  searched 
for  three  emigrants  whom  they  wished  to  imprison,  even  in  the 
apartments  where  the  wounded  were  lying,  running  their  bayo 
nets  into  the  mattresses.  They  have  taken  for  themselves  beds 
given  by  the  Romans  to  the  hospital,  —  not  public  property, 
but  private  gift.  The  hospital  of  Santo  Spirito  was  a  govern 
mental  establishment,  and^  in  using  a  part  of  it  for  the  wounded, 
its  director  had  been  retained,  because  he  had  the  reputation  of 
being  honest  and  not  illiberal.  But  as  soon  as  the  French  en 
tered,  he,  with  true  priestly  baseness,  sent  away  the  women 
nurses,  saying  he  had  no  longer  money  to  pay  them,  trans 
ported  the  wounded  into  a  miserable,  airless  basement,  that 
had  before  been  used  as  a  granary,  and  appropriated  the  good 
apartments  to  the  use  of  the  French  ! 

July  8. 

The  report  of  this  morning  is  that  the  French  yesterday  vio 
lated  the  domicile  of  our  Consul,  Mr.  Brown,  pretending  to  search 
for  persons  hidden  there ;  that  Mr  Brown,  banner  in  one  hand 
and  sword  in  the  other,  repelled  the  assault,  and  fairly  drove 
them  down  stairs  ;  that  then  he  made  them  an  appropriate  speech, 
though  in  a  mixed  language  of  English,  French,  and  Italian  ;  that 
the  crowd  vehemently  applauded  Mr.  Brown,  who  already  was 
much  liked  for  the  warm  sympathy  he  had  shown  the  Romans  in 
their  aspirations  and  their  distresses  ;  and  that  he  then  donned 
his  uniform,  and  went  to  Oudinot  to  make  his  protest.  How  this 
was  received  I  know  not,  but  understand  Mr.  Brown  departed 
with  his  family  yesterday  evening.  Will  America  look  as  coldly 
on  the  insult  to  herself,  as  she  has  on  the  struggle  of  this  injured 
people  ? 

To-day  an  edict  is  out  to  disarm  the  National  Guard.  The 
generous  "  protectors "  wish  to  take  all  the  trouble  upon  them 
selves.  Rome  is  full  of  them ;  at  every  step  are  met  groups  in 


41 

CONDUCT    OF    MR.    CASS.  417 

the  uniform  of  France,  with  faces  bronzed  in  the  African  war,  and 
so  stultified  by  a  life  without  enthusiasm  and  without  thought, 
that  I  do  not  believe  Napoleon  would  recognize  them  as  French 
soldiers.  The  effect  of  their  appearance  compared  with  that  of 
the  Italian  free  corps  is  that  of  body  as  compared  with  spirit.  It 
is  easy  to  see  how  they  could  be  used  to  purposes  so  contrary  to 
the  legitimate  policy  of  France,  for  they  do  not  look  more  intel 
lectual,  more  fitted  to  have  opinions  of  their  own,  than  the  Aus 
trian  soldiery. 

July  10. 

The  plot  thickens.  The  exact  facts  with  regard  to  the  in 
vasion  of  Mr.  Brown's  house  I  have  not  been  able  to  ascertain. 
I  suppose  they  will  be  published,  as  Oudinot  has  promised  to 
satisfy  Mr.  Cass.  I  must  add,  in  reference  to  what  I  wrote  some 
time  ago  of  the  position  of  our  Envoy  here,  that  the  kind  and 
sympathetic  course  of  Mr.  Cass  toward  the  Republicans  in  these 
troubles,  his  very  gentlemanly  and  courteous  bearing,  have  from 
the  minds  of  most  removed  all  unpleasant  feelings.  They  see 
that  his  position  was  very  peculiar,  —  sent  to  the  Papal  govern 
ment,  finding  here  the  Republican,  and  just  at  that  moment  vio 
lently  assailed.  Unless  he  had  extraordinary  powers,  he  naturally 
felt  obliged  to  communicate  further  with  our  government  before 
acknowledging  this.  I  shall  always  regret,  however,  that  he  did 
not  stand  free  to  occupy  the  high  position  that  belonged  to  the 
representative  of  the  United  States  at  that  moment,  and  peculi 
arly  because  it  was  by  a  republic  that  the  Roman  Republic  was 
betrayed. 

But,  as  I  say,  the  plot  thickens.  Yesterday  three  families 
were  carried  to  prison  because  a  boy  crowed  like  a  cock  at  the 
French  soldiery  from  the  windows  of  the  house  they  occupied. 
Another,  because  a  man  pursued  took  refuge  in  their  court-yard. 
At  the  same  time,  the  city  being  mostly  disarmed,  came  the  edict 
to  take  down  the  insignia  of  the  Republic,  "  emblems  of  anar 
chy."  But  worst  of  all  they  have  done  is  an  edict  commanding 
all  foreigners  who  had  been  in  the  service  of  the  Republican 
government  to  leave  Rome  within  twenty-four  hours.  This  is 


418  THINGS    AND    THOUGHTS    IN    EUROPE. 

the  most  infamous  thing  done  yet,  as  it  drives  to  desperation  those 
who  stayed  because  they  had  so  many  to  go  with  and  no  place  to 
go  to,  or  because  their  relatives  lie  wounded  here :  no  others 
wished  to  remain  in  Rome  under  present  circumstances. 

I  am  sick  of  breathing  the  same  air  with  men  capable  of  a 
part  so  utterly  cruel  and  false.  As  soon  as  I  can,  I  shall  take 
refuge  in  the  mountains,  if  it  be  possible  to  find  an  obscure  nook 
unpervaded  by  these  convulsions.  Let  not  my  friends  be  surprised 
if  they  do  not  hear  from  me  for  some  time.  I  may  not  feel  like 
writing.  I  have  seen  too  much  sorrow,  and,  alas  !  without  power 
to  aid.  It  makes  me  sick  to  see  the  palaces  and  streets  of  Home 
full  of  these  infamous  foreigners,  and  to  note  the  already  changed 
aspect  of  her  population.  The  men  of  Rome  had  begun,  filled 
with  new  hopes,  to  develop  unknown  energy,  —  they  walked 
quick,  their  eyes  sparkled,  they  delighted  in  duty,  in  responsi 
bility  ;  in  a  year  of  such  life  their  effeminacy  would  have  been 
vanquished.  Now,  dejectedly,  unemployed,  they  lounge  along  the 
streets,  feeling  that  all  the  implements  of  labor,  all  the  ensigns  of 
hope,  have  been  snatched  from  them.  Their  hands  fall  slack, 
their  eyes  rove  aimless,  the  beggars  begin  to  swarm  again,  and 
the  black  ravens  who  delight  in  the  night  of  ignorance,  the  slum 
ber  of  sloth,  as  the  only  sureties  for  their  rule,  emerge  daily  more 
and  more  frequent  from  their  hiding-places. 

The  following  Address  has  been  circulated  from  hand  to  hand. 

"To  THE  PEOPLE  OP  ROME. 

"  Misfortune,  brothers,  has  fallen  upon  us  anew.  But  it  is  trial 
of  brief  duration,  —  it  is  the  stone  of  the  sepulchre  which  we  shall 
throw  away  after  three  days,  rising  victorious  and  renewed,  an 
immortal  nation.  For  with  us  are  God  and  Justice,  —  God  and 
Justice,  who  cannot  die,  but  always  triumph,  while  kings  and 
popes,  once  dead,  revive  no  more. 

"  As  you  have  been  great  in  the  combat,  be  so  in  the  days  of 
sorrow,  —  great  in  your  conduct  as  citizens,  by  generous  disdain, 
by  sublime  silence.  Silence  is  the  weapon  we  have  now  to  use 
against  the  Cossacks  of  France  and  the  priests,  their  masters. 


ADDRESS   BY  A   ROMAN.  419 

"  In  the  streets  do  not  look  at  them  ;  do  not  answer  if  they  ad 
dress  you. 

"  In  the  cafes,  in  the  eating-houses,  if  they  enter,  rise  and  go 
out. 

"  Let  your  windows  remain  closed  as  they  pass. 

"  Never  attend  their  feasts,  their  parades. 

"  Regard  the  harmony  of  their  musical  bands  as  tones  of  slav 
ery,  and,  when  you  hear  them,  fly. 

"  Let  the  liberticide  soldier  be  condemned  to  isolation  ;  let  him 
atone  in  solitude  and  contempt  for  having  served  priests  and 
kings. 

"  And  you,  Roman  women,  masterpiece  of  God's  work !  deign 
no  look,  no  smile,  to  those  satellites  of  an  abhorred  Pope  ! 
Cursed  be  she  who,  before  the  odious  satellites  of  Austria,  forgets 
that  she  is  Italian !  Her  name  shall  be  published  for  the  execra 
tion  of  all  her  people !  And  even  the  courtesans !  let  them 
show  love  for  their  country,  and  thus  regain  the  dignity  of  citi 
zens  ! 

"  And  our  word  of  order,  our  cry  of  reunion  and  emancipation, 
be  now  and  ever,  VIVA  LA  REPUBLICA  ! 

"  This  incessant  cry,  which  not  even  French  slaves  can  dispute, 
shall  prepare  us  to  administer  the  bequest  of  our  martyrs,  shall 
be  consoling  dew  to  the  immaculate  and  holy  bones  that  repose, 
sublime  holocaust  of  faith  and  of  love,  near  our  walls,  and  make 
doubly  divine  the  Eternal  City.  In  this  cry  we  shall  find  our 
selves  always  brothers,  and  we  shall  conquer.  Viva  Rome,  the 
capital  of  Italy !  Viva  the  Italy  of  the  people  !  Viva  the  Ro 
man  Republic! 

«  A  ROMAN. 

"  Rome,  July  4, 1849." 

Yes  ;  July  4th,  the  day  so  joyously  celebrated  in  our  land,  is 
that  of  the  entrance  of  the  French  into  Rome  ! 

I  know  not  whether  the  Romans  will  follow  out  this  pro 
gramme  with  constancy,  as  the  sterner  Milanese  have  done.  If 
they  can,  it  will  draw  upon  them  endless  persecutions,  countless 


420  THINGS    AND    THOUGHTS    IN    EUROPE. 

exactions,  but  at  once  educate  and  prove  them  worthy  of  a  no 
bler  life. 

Yesterday  I  went  over  the  scene  of  conflict.  It  was  fearful 
even  to  see  the  Casinos  Quattro  Venti  and  Vascello,  where  the 
French  and  Romans  had  been  several  days  so  near  one  another, 
all  shattered  to  pieces,  with  fragments  of  rich  stucco  and  painting 
still  sticking  to  rafters  between  the  great  holes  made  by  the  can 
nonade,  and  think  that  men  had  stayed  and  fought  in  them  when 
only  a  mass  of  ruins.  The  French,  indeed,  were  entirely  shel 
tered  the  last  days ;  to  my  unpractised  eyes,  the  extent  and  thor 
oughness  of  their  works  seemed  miraculous,  and  gave  me  the  first 
clear  idea  of  the  incompetency  of  the  Italians  to  resist  organized 
armies.  I  saw  their  commanders  had  not  even  known  enough  of 
the  art  of  war  to  understand  how  the  French  were  conducting  the 
siege.  It  is  true,  their  resources  were  at  any  rate  inadequate  to 
resistance  ;  only  continual  sorties  would  have  arrested  the  prog 
ress  of  the  foe,  and  to  make  them  and  man  the  wall  their  forces 
were  inadequate.  I  was  struck  more  than  ever  by  the  heroic  val 
or  of  our  people,  —  let  me  so  call  them  now  as  ever ;  for  go  where 
I  may,  a  large  part  of  my  heart  will  ever  remain  in  Italy.  I  hope 
her  children  will  always  acknowledge  me  as  a  sister,  though  I 
drew  not  my  first  breath  here.  A  Contadini  showed  me  where 
thirty-seven  braves  are  buried  beneath  a  heap  of  wall  that  fell 
upon  them  in  the  shock  of  one  cannonade.  A  marble  nymph, 
with  broken  arm,  looked  sadly  that  way  from  her  sun-dried  foun 
tain  ;  some  roses  were  blooming  still,  some  red  oleanders,  amid 
the  ruin.  The  sun  was  casting  its  last  light  on  the  mountains  on 
the  tranquil,  sad  Campagna,  that  sees  one  leaf  more  turned  in 
the  book  of  woe.  This  was  in  the  Vascello.  I  then  entered  the 
French  ground,  all  mapped  and  hollowed  like  a  honeycomb.  A 
pair  of  skeleton  legs  protruded  from  a  bank  of  one  barricade ; 
lower,  a  dog  had  scratched  away  its  light  covering  of  earth  from 
the  body  of  a  man,  and  discovered  it  lying  face  upward  all 
dressed  ;  the  dog  stood  gazing  on  it  with  an  air  of  stupid  amaze 
ment.  I  thought  at  that  moment,  recalling  some  letters  received : 
"  0  men  and  women  of  America,  spared  these  frightful  sights, 


DUTY    OF    AMERICA.  421 

these  sudden  wrecks  of  every  hope,  what  angel  of  heaven  do 
you  suppose  has  time  to  listen  to  your  tales  of  morbid  woe  ?  If 
any  find  leisure  to  work  for  men  to-day,  think  you  not  they  have 
enough  to  do  to  care  for  the  victims  here?" 

I  see  you  have  meetings,  where  you  speak  of  the  Italians,  the 
Hungarians.  I  pray  you  do  something  ;  let  it  not  end  in  a  mere 
cry  of  sentiment.  That  is  better  than  to  sneer  at  all  that  is 
liberal,  like  the  English,  —  than  to  talk  of  the  holy  victims  of  pa 
triotism  as  "  anarchists  "  and  "  brigands  "  ;  but  it  is  not  enough. 
It  ought  not  to  content  your  consciences.  Do  you  owe  no  tithe 
to  Heaven  for  the  privileges  it  has  showered  on  you,  for  whose 
achievement  so  many  here  suffer  and  perish  daily  ?  Deserve  to 
retain  them,  by  helping  your  fellow-men  to  acquire  them.  Our 
government  must  abstain  from  interference,  but  private  action 
is  practicable,  is  due.  For  Italy,  it  is  in  this  moment  too  late  ;  but 
all  that  helps  Hungary  helps  her  also,  —  helps  all  who  wish  the 
freedom  of  men  from  an  hereditary  yoke  now  become  intolerable. 
Send  money,  send  cheer,  —  acknowledge  as  the  legitimate  lead 
ers  and  rulers  those  men  who  represent  the  people,  who  under 
stand  their  wants,  who  are  ready  to  die  or  to  live  for  their  good. 
Kossuth  I  know  not,  but  his  people  recognize  him  ;  Manin  I 
know  not,  but  with  what  firm  nobleness,  what  perserving  virtue, 
he  has  acted  for  Venice  !  Mazzini  I  know,  the  man  and  his 
acts,  great,  pure,  and  constant,  —  a  man  to  whom  only  the  next 
age  can  do  justice,  as  it  reaps  the  harvest  of  the  seed  he  has  sown 
in  this.  Friends,  countrymen,  and  lovers  of  virtue,  lovers  of  free 
dom,  lovers  of  truth !  be  on  the  alert ;  rest  not  supine  in  your 
easier  lives,  but  remember 

"  Mankind  is  one, 
And  beats  with  one  great  heart." 


PART   III. 


LETTERS  FROM  ABROAD  TO  FRIENDS 
AT  HOME. 


LETTERS. 


FROM  A  LETTER  TO . 

Bellagio,  Lake  of  Como,  August,  1847. 

You  do  not  deceive  yourself  surely  about  religion,  in  so  far  as 
that  there  is  a  deep  meaning  in  those  pangs  of  our  fate  which,  if 
we  live  by  faith,  will  become  our  most  precious  possession.  "  Live 
for  thy  faith  and  thou  shalt  yet  behold  it  living,"  is  with  me,  as  it 
hath  been,  a  maxim. 

Wherever  I  turn,  I  see  still  the  same  dark  clouds,  with  occa 
sional  gleams  of  light.  In  this  Europe  how  much  suffocated  life  ! 
—  a  sort  of  woe  much  less  seen  with  us.  I  know  many  of  the  no 
ble  exiles,  pining  for  their  natural  sphere ;  many  of  them  seek  in 
Jesus  the  guide  and  friend,  as  you  do.  For  me,  it  is  my  nature 
to  wish  to  go  straight  to  the  Creative  Spirit,  and  I  can  fully  appre 
ciate  what  you  say  of  the  need  of  our  happiness  depending  on  no 
human  being.  Can  you  really  have  attained  Such  wisdom  ?  Your 
letter  seemed  to  me  very  modest  and  pure,  and  I  trust  in  Heaven 
all  may  be  solid. 

I  am  everywhere  well  received,  and  high  and  low  take  pleasure 
in  smoothing  my  path.  I  love  much  the  Italians.  The  lower 
classes  have  the  vices  induced  by  long  subjection  to  tyranny ;  but 
also  a  winning  sweetness,  a  ready  and  discriminating  love  for  the 
beautiful,  and  a  delicacy  in  the  sympathies,  the  absence  of  which 
always  made  me  sick  in  our  own  country.  Here,  at  least,  one 
does  not  suffer  from  obtuseness  or  indifference.  They  take  pleas 
ure,  too,  in  acts  of  kindness ;  they  are  bountiful,  but  it  is  useless 
36* 


426  LETTERS    TO    FRIENDS    AT    HOME. 

to  hope  the  least  honor  in  affairs  of  business.  I  cannot  persuade 
those  who  serve  me,  however  attached,  that  they  should  not  de 
ceive  me,  and  plunder  me.  They  think  that  is  part  of  their  duty 
towards  a  foreigner.  This  is  troublesome  no  less  than  disagreea 
ble  ;  it  is  absolutely  necessary  to  be  always  on  the  watch  against 
being  cheated. 


EXTRACT  FROM  A  LETTFR. 

ONE  loses  sight  of  all  dabbling  and  pretension  when  seated  at 
the  feet  of  dead  Rome,  —  Rome  so  grand  and  beautiful  upon  her 
bier.  Art  is  dead  here  ;  the  few  sparkles  that  sometimes  break 
through  the  embers  cannot  make  a  flame ;  but  the  relics  of  the 
past  are  great  enough,  over-great ;  we  should  do  nothing  but  sit, 
and  weep,  and  worship. 

In  Rome,  one  has  all  the  free  feeling  of  the  country ;  the  city 
is  so  interwoven  with  vineyards  and  gardens,  such  delightful 
walks  in  the  villas,  such  ceaseless  music  of  the  fountains,  and  from 
every  high  point  the  Campagna  and  Tiber  seem  so  near. 

Full  of  enchantment  has  been  my  summer,  passed  wholly 
among  Italians,  in  places  where  no  foreigner  goes,  amid  the 
snowy  peaks,  in  the  exquisite  valleys  of  the  Abruzzi.  I  have 
seen  a  thousand  landscapes,  any  one  of  which  might  employ  the 
thoughts  of  the  painter  for  years.  Not  without  reason  the  people 
dream  that,  at  the  death  of  a  saint,  columns  of  light  are  seen  to 
hover  on  those  mountains.  They  take,  at  sunset,  the  same  rose- 
hues  as  the  Alps.  The  torrents  are  magnificent.  I  knew  some 
noblemen,  with  baronial  castles  nestled  in  the  hills  and  slopes, 
rich  in  the  artistic  treasures  of  centuries.  They  liked  me,  and 
showed  me  the  hidden  beauties  of  Roman  remains. 


Rome,  April,  1848. 

THE  gods  themselves  walk  on  earth,  here  in  the  Italian  spring, 
Day  after  day  of  sunny  weather  lights  up  the  flowery  woods  and 


TO    HER    MOTHER.  427 

Arcadian  glades.  The  fountains,  hateful  during  the  endless  rains, 
charm  again.  At  Castle  Turano  I  found  heaths,  as  large  as  our 
pear-trees,  in  full  flower.  Such  wealth  of  beauty  is  irresistible,  but 
ah  !  the  drama  of  my  life  is  very  strange  :  the  ship  plunges  deeper 
as  it  rises  higher.  You  would  be  amazed,  could  you  know  how 
different  is  my  present  phase  of  life  from  that  in  which  you  knew 
me  ;  but  you  would  love  me  no  less ;  it  is  the  same  planet  that 
shows  such  different  climes. 


TO  HER  MOTHER. 

Rome,  November  16,  1848. 

I  AM  again  in  Rome,  situated  for  the  first  time  entirely  to  my 
mind.  I  have  only  one  room,  but  large  ;  and  everything  about  the 
bed  so  gracefully  and  adroitly  disposed  that  it  makes  a  beautiful 
parlor,  —  and  of  course  I  pay  much  less.  I  have  the  sun  all  day, 
and  an  excellent  chimney.  It  is  very  high,  and  has  pure  air  and 
the  most  beautiful  view  all  around  imaginable.  Add,  that  I  am 
with  the  dearest,  delightful  old  couple  one  can  imagine,  —  quick, 
prompt,  and  kind,  sensible  and  contented.  Having  no  children, 
they  like  to  regard  me  and  the  Prussian  sculptor,  my  neighbor, 
as  such  ;  yet  are  too  delicate  and  too  busy  ever  to  intrude.  In 
the  attic  dwells  a  priest,  who  insists  on  making  my  fire  when  An 
ton  ia  is  away.  To  be  sure,  he  pays  himself  for  his  trouble  by 
asking  a  great  many  questions 

You  cannot  conceive  the  enchantment  of  this  place.  So  much 
I  suffered  here  last  January  and  February,  I  thought  myself  a 
little  weaned  ;  but  returning,  my  heart  swelled  even  to  tears  with 
the  cry  of  the  poet, 

"  0  Rome,  my  couptry,  city  of  the  soul !  " 

Those  have  not  lived  who  have  not  seen  Rome.  Warned, 
however,  by  the  last  winter,  I  dared  not  rent  my  lodgings  for  the 
year.  I  hope  I  am  acclimated.  I  have  been  through  what  is 
called  the  grape-cure,  much  more  charming,  certainly,  than  the 
water-cure.  At  present  I  am  very  well,  but,  alas  !  because  I  have 


428  LETTERS    TO    FRIENDS    AT    HOME. 

gone  to  bed  early,  and  done  very  little.  I  do  not  know  if  I  can 
maintain  any  labor.  As  to  rny  life,  I  think  it  is  not  the  will  of 
Heaven  it  should  terminate  very  soon.  I  have  had  another  strange 
escape. 

I  had  taken  passage  in  the  diligence  to  come  to  Rome ;  two 
rivers  were  to  be  passed,  the  Turano  and  the  Tiber,  but 
passed  by  good  bridges,  and  a  road  excellent  when  not  broken 
unexpectedly  by  torrents  from  the  mountains.  The  diligence 
sets  out  between  three  and  four  in  the  morning,  long  before  light. 
The  director  sent  me  word  that  the  Marchioness  Crispoldi  had 
taken  for  herself  and  family  a  coach  extraordinary,  which  would 
start  two  hours  later,  and  that  I  could  have  a  place  in  that  if  I 
liked;  so  I  accepted.  The  weather  had  been  beautiful,  but  on 
the  eve  of  the  day  fixed  for  my  departure,  the  wind  rose,  and  the 
rain  fell  in  torrents.  I  observed  that  the  river,  which  passed  my 
window,  was  much  swollen,  and  rushed  with  great  violence.  In 
the  night  I  heard  its  voice  still  stronger,  and  felt  glad  I  had  not 
to  set  out  in  the  dark.  I  rose  at  twilight  and  was  expecting  my 
carriage,  and  wondering  at  its  delay,  when  I  heard  that  the  great 
diligence,  several  miles  below,  had  been  seized  by  a  torrent ;  the 
horses  were  up  to  their  necks  in  water,  before  any  one  dreamed 
of  danger.  The  postilion  called  on  all  the  saints,  and  threw  him 
self  into  the  water.  The  door  of  the  diligence  could  not  be  opened, 
and  the  passengers  forced  themselves,  one  after  another,  into  the 
cold  water ;  it  was  dark  too.  Had  I  been  there,  I  had  fared  ill.  A 
pair  of-strong  men  were  ill  after  it,  though  all  escaped  with  life. 

For  several  days  there  was  no  going  to  Rome ;  but  at  last  we 
set  forth  in  two  great  diligences,  with  all  the  horses  of  the  route. 
For  many  miles  the  mountains  and  ravines  were  covered  with 
snow  ;  I  seemed  to  have  returned  to  my  own  country  and  climate. 
Few  miles  were  passed  before  the  conductor  injured  his  leg  under 
the  wheel,  and  I  had  the  pain  of  seeing  him  suffer  all  the  way, 
while  "  Blood  of  Jesus  ! "  and  "  Souls  in  Purgatory !  "  was  the 
mildest  beginning  of  an  answer  to  the  jeers  of  the  postilions  upon 
his,  paleness.  We  stopped  at  a  miserable  osteria,  in  whose  cel 
lar  we  found  a  magnificent  relic  of  Cyclopean  architecture,  —  as 


TO    HER    MOTHER.  420 

indeed  in  Italy  one  is  paid  at  every  step  for  discomfort  and  dan 
ger,  by  some  precious  subject  of  thought.     We  proceeded  very 
slowly,  and  reached  just  at  night  a  solitary  little  inn  which  marks 
the  site  of  the  ancient  home  of  the  Sabine  virgins,  snatched  away 
to  become  the  mothers  of  Rome.    We  were  there  saluted  with  the 
news  that  the  Tiber  also  had  overflowed  its  banks,  and  it  was 
very  doubtful  if  we  could  pass.     But  what  else  to  do  ?     There 
were  no  accommodations  in  the  house  for  thirty  people,  or  even 
for  three ;  and  to  sleep  in  the  carriages,  in  that  wet  air  of  the 
marshes,  was  a  more  certain  danger  than  to  attempt  the  passage. 
So  we  set  forth  ;  the  moon,  almost  at  the  full,  smiling  sadly  on 
the  ancient  grandeurs  half  draped  in  mist,  and  anon  drawing  over 
her  face  a  thin  white  veil.     As  we  approached  the  Tiber,  the 
towers  and  domes  of  Rome  could  be  seen,  like  a  cloud  lying  low 
on  the  horizon.     The  road  and  the  meadows,  alike  under  water, 
lay  between  us  and  it,  one  sheet  of  silver.     The  horses  entered  ; 
they  behaved  nobly.     We  proceeded,  every  moment  uncertain  if 
the  water  would  not  become  deep ;  but  the  scene  was  beautiful,  and 
I  enjoyed  it  highly.     I  have  never  yet  felt  afraid,  when  really  in 
the  presence  of  danger,  though  sometimes  in  its  apprehension. 

At  last  we  entered  the  gate ;  the  diligence  stopping  to  be  ex 
amined,  I  walked  to  the  gate  of  Villa  Ludovisi,  and  saw  its  rich 

shrubberies  of  myrtle,  so  pale  and  eloquent  in  the  moonlight 

My  dear  friend,  Madame  Arconati,  has  shown  me  generous 
love ;  a  Contadina,  whom  I  have  known  this  summer,  hardly  less. 
Every  Sunday  she  came  in  her  holiday  dress,  a  beautiful  corset 
of  red  silk,  richly  embroidered,  rich  petticoat,  nice  shoes  and- 
stockings,  and  handsome  coral  necklace,  on  one  arm  an  immense 
basket  of  grapes,  on  the  other  a  pair  of  live  chickens  to  be  eaten 
by  me  for  her  sake  ("per  amore  mio  "),  and  wanted  no  present, 
no  reward :  it  was,  as  she  said,  "  for  the  honor  and  pleasure  of  her 
acquaintance."  The  old  father  of  the  family  never  met  me  but 
he  took  off  his  hat,  and  said,  "  Madame,  it  is  to  me  a  consolation  to 
see  you."  Are  there  not  sweet  flowers  of  affection  in  life,  glorious 
moments,  great  thoughts  ?  Why  must  they  be  so  dearly  paid  for  ? 
Many  Americans  have  shown  me  great  and  thoughtful  kind- 


430  LETTERS    TO    FRIENDS    AT    HOME. 

ness,  and  none  more  so  than  William  Story  and  his  wife.  They 
are  now  in  Florence,  but  may  return.  1  do  not  know  whether 
I  shall  stay  here  or  not :  I  shall  be  guided  much  by  the  state 
of  my  health. 

All  is  quieted  now  in  Rome.  Late  at  night  the  Pope  had  to 
yield,  but  not  till  the  door  of  his  palace  was  half  burned,  and  his 
confessor  killed.  This  man,  Parma,  provoked  his  fate  by  firing 
on  the  people  from  a  window.  It  seems  the  Pope  never  gave 
order  to  fire;  his  guard  acted  from  a  sudden  impulse  of  their 
own.  The  new  ministry  chosen  are  little  inclined  to  accept.  It 
is  almost  impossible  for  any  one  to  act,  unless  the  Pope  is  stripped 
of  his  temporal  power,  and  the  hour  for  that  is  not  yet  quite 
ripe ;  though  they  talk  more  and  more  of  proclaiming  the  Re 
public,  and  even  of  calling  to  Rome  my  friend  Mazzini. 

If  I  came  home  at  this  moment,  I  should  feel  as  if  forced  to 
leave  my  own  house,  my  own  people,  and  the  hour  which  I  had 
always  longed  for.  If  I  do  come  in  this  way,  all  I  can  promise 
is  to  plague  other  people  as  little  as  possible.  My  own  plans  and 
desires  will  be  postponed  to  another  world. 

Do  not  feel  anxious  about  me.  Some  higher  Power  leads  me 
through  strange,  dark,  thorny  paths,  broken  at  times  by  glades 
opening  down  into  prospects  of  sunny  beauty,  into  which  I  am 
not  permitted  to  enter.  If  God  disposes  for  us,  it  is  not  for  noth 
ing.  This  I  can  say :  my  heart  is  in  some  respects  better,  it  is 
kinder,  and  more  humble.  Also,  my  mental  acquisitions  have 
certainly  been  great,  however  inadequate  to  my  desires. 


TO  HER  BKOTHER,  K.  F.  FULLER. 

Rome,  January  19,  1849. 

MY  DEAR  RICHARD,  —  With  my  window  open,  looking  out 
upon  St.  Peter's,  and  the  glorious  Italian  sun  pouring  in,  I  was 
just  thinking  of  you ;  I  was  just  thinking  how  I  wished  you  were 
here,  that  we  might  walk  forth  and  talk  together  under  the  in- 


TO    HER    BROTHER.  431 

fluencc  of  these  magnificent  objects.  I  was  thinking  of  the  proc 
lamation  of  the  Constitutional  Assembly  here,  a  measure  carried 
by  courageous  youth  in  the  face  of  age,  sustained  by  the  preju 
dices  of  many  years,  the  ignorance  of  the  people,  and  all  the 
wealth  of  the  country ;  yet  courageous  youth  faces  not  only  these, 
but  the  most  threatening  aspect  of  foreign  powers,  and  dares  a 
future  of  blood  and  exile  to  achieve  privileges  which  are  our 
American  common  birthright.  I  thought  of  the  great  interests 
which  may  in  our  country  be  sustained  without  obstacle  by  every 
able  man,  —  interests  of  humanity,  interests  of  God. 

I  thought  of  the  new  prospects  of  wealth  opened  to  our  country 
men  by  the  acquisition  of  New  Mexico  and  California,  —  the  vast 
prospects  of  our  country  every  way,  so  that  it  is  itself  a  vast  bless 
ing  to  be  born  an  American ;  and  I  thought  how  impossible  it  is 
that  one  like  you,  of  so  strong  and  generous  a  nature,  should,  if 
he  can  but  patiently  persevere,  be  defrauded  of  a  rich,  manifold, 
powerful  life. 

Thursday  eve,  January  25. 

This  has  been  a  most  beautiful  day,  and  I  have  taken  a  long 
walk  out  of  town.  How  much  I  should  like  sometimes  to  walk 
with  you  again !  I  went  to  the  church  of  St.  Lorenzo,  one  of 
the  most  ancient  in  Rome,  rich  in  early  mosaics,  also  with  spoils 
from  the  temples,  marbles,  ancient  sarcophagi  with  fine  bassi- 
rilievi,  and  magnificent  columns.  There  is  a  little  of  everything, 
but  the  medley  is  harmonized  by  the  action  of"  time,  and  the  sen 
sation  induced  is  that  of  repose.  It  has  the  public  cemetery,  and 
there  lie  the  bones  of  many  poor ;  the  rich  and  noble  lie  in  lead 
coffins  in  the  church  vaults  of  Rome,  but  St.  Lorenzo  loved  the 
poor.  When  his  tormentors  insisted  on  knowing  where  he  had 
hid  his  riches,  —  "There,"  he  said,  pointing  to  the  crowd  of 
wretches  who  hovered  near  his  bed,  compelled  to  see  the  tyrants 
of  the  earth  hew  down  the  tree  that  had  nourished  and  sheltered 
them. 

Amid  the  crowd  of  inexpressive  epitaphs,  one  touched  me, 
erected  by  a  son  to  his  father.  "  He  was,"  says  the  son,  "  an 
angel  of  prosperity,  seeking  our  good  in  distant  countries  with 


432  LETTERS    TO    FRIENDS    AT   HOME. 

unremitting  toil  and  pain.  We  owe  him  all.  For  his  death  it  is 
my  only  consolation  that  in  life  I  never  left  his  side." 

Returning,  I  passed  the  Pretorian  Camp,  the  Campus  Salisetus, 
where  vestals  that  had  broken  their  vows  were  buried  alive  in 
the  city  whose  founder  was  born  from  a  similar  event.  Such  are 
the  usual,  the  frightful  inconsistencies  of  mankind. 

From  my  windows  I  see  the  Barberini  palace  ;  in  its  chambers 
are  the  pictures  of  the  Cenci,  and  the  Galatea,  so  beautifully  de 
scribed  by  Goethe  ;  in  the  gardens  are  the  remains  of  the  tomb 
of  Servius  Tullius. 

Yesterday  as  I  went  forth  I  saw  the  house  where  Keats  lived 
in  Rome,  and  where  he  died  ;  I  saw  the  Casino  of  Raphael.  Re 
turning,  I  passed  the  villa  where  Goethe  lived  when  in  Rome : 
afterwards,  the  houses  of  Claude  and  Poussin. 

Ah  what  human  companionship  here  !  how  everything  speaks ! 
I  live  myself  in  the  apartment  described  in  Andersen's  "  Improvvi- 
satore,"  which  get  you,  and  read  a  scene  of  the  childhood  of  An 
tonio.  I  have  the  room,  I  suppose,  indicated  as  being  occupied  by 
the  Danish  sculptor. 


TO    THE    SAME. 

Rome,  March  17,  1849. 

I  TAKE  occasion  to  enclose  this  seal,  as  a  little  birthday  pres 
ent,  for  I  think  you  will  be  twenty-five  in  May.  I  have  used  it 
a  great  deal ;  the  design  is  graceful  and  expressive,  —  the  stone 
of  some  little  value. 

I  live  with  the  severest  economy  consistent  with  my  health. 
I  could  not  live  for  less  anywhere.  I  have  renounced  much,  have 
suffered  more.  I  trust  I  shall  not  find  it  impossible  to  accomplish 
at  least  one  of  my  designs.  This  is,  to  see  the  end  of  the  politi 
cal  struggle  in  Italy,  and  write  its  history.  I  think  it  will  come 
to  its  crisis  within  this  year.  But  to  complete  my  work  as  I 
have  begun,  I  must  watch  it  to  the  end. 

This  work,  if  I  can  accomplish  it,  will  be  a  worthy  chapter  in  the 


TO    HER    BROTHER.  433 

history  of  the  world ;  and  if  written  with  the  spirit  which  breathes 
through  me,  and  with  sufficient  energy  and  calmness  to  execute 
well  the  details,  would  be  what  the  motto  on  my  ring  indicates, 
—  "  a  possession  for  ever,  for  man." 

It  ought  to  be  profitable  to  me  pecuniarily ;  but  in  these  re 
spects  Fate  runs  so  uniformly  counter  to  me,  that  I  dare  not  ex 
pect  ever  to  be  free  from  perplexity  and  uncongenial  labor.  Still, 
these  will  never  more  be  so  hard  to  me,  if  I  shall  have  done  some 
thing  good,  which  may  survive  my  troubled  existence.  Yet  it 
would  be  like  the  rest,  if  by  ill  health,  want  of  means,  or  being 
driven  prematurely  from  the  field  of  observation,  this  hope  also 
should  be  blighted.  I  am  prepared  to  have  it  so.  Only  my  efforts 
tend  to  the  accomplishment  of  my  object ;  and  should  they  not  be 
baffled,  you  will  not  see  me  before  the  summer  of  1850. 

Meantime,  let  the  future  be  what  it  may,  I  live  as  well  as  I 
can  in  the  present. 

Farewell,  my  dear  Richard ;  that  you  may  lead  a  peaceful, 
aspiring,  and  generous  life  was  ever,  and  must  ever  be,  the  prayer 
from  the  soul  of  your  sister 

MARGARET. 


TO    THE    SAME. 

Eome,  May  22,  1849. 

I  DO  not  write  to  Eugene  yet,  because  around  me  is  such  ex 
citement  I  cannot  settle  my  mind  enough  to  write  a  letter  good 
for  anything.  The  Neapolitans  have  been  driven  back  ;  but 
the  French  seem  to  be  amusing  us  with  a  pretence  of  treaties, 
while  waiting  for  the  Austrians  to  come  up.  The  Austrians 
cannot,  I  suppose,  be  more  than  three  days'  march  from  us.  I 
feel  but  little  about  myself.  Such  thoughts  are  merged  in  indig 
nation,  and  in  the  fears  I  have  that  Rome  may  be  bombarded.  It 
seems  incredible  that  any  nation  should  be  willing  to  incur  the 
infamy  of  such  an  act,  —  an  act  that  may  rob  posterity  of  a  most 
37 


434  LETTERS    TO    FRIENDS    AT    HOME. 

precious  part  of  its  inheritance  ;  —  only  so  many  incredible  tiling 
have  happened  of  late.  I  am  with  William  Story,  his  wife  and 
uncle.  Very  kind  friends  they  have  been  in  this  strait.  They 
are  going  away,  so  soon  as  they  can  find  horses,  —  going  into  Ger 
many.  I  remain  alone  in  the  house,  under  our  flag,  almost  the 
only  American  exoept  the  Consul  and  Ambassador.  But  Mr. 
Ciiss,  the  Envoy,  has  offered  to  do  anything  for  me,  and  I  feel  at 
liberty  to  call  on  him  if  I  please. 

But  enough  of  this.  Let  us  implore  of  fate  another  good 
meeting,  full  and  free,  whether  long  or  short.  Love  to  dearest 
mother,  Arthur,  Ellen,  Lloyd.  Say  to  all,  that,  should  any  acci 
dent  possible  to  these  troubled  times  transfer  me  to  another 
scene  of  existence,  they  need  not  regret  it.  There  must  be  bet 
ter  worlds  than  this,  where  innocent  blood  is  not  ruthlessly  shed, 
where  treason  does  not  so  easily  triumph,  where  the  greatest  and 
best  are  not  crucified.  I  do  not  say  this  in  apprehension,  but  in 
case  of  accident,  you  might  be  glad  to  keep  this  last  word  from 
your  sister 

MARGARET. 


TO  R.  W.  EMERSON. 

Rome,  June  10,  1849. 

I  RECEIVED  your  letter  amid  the  round  of  cannonade  and 
musketry.  It  was  a  terrible  battle  fought  here  from  the  first  to 
the  last  light  of  day.  I  could  see  all  its  progress  from  my  balcony. 
The  Italians  fought  like  lions.  It  is  a  truly  heroic  spirit  that  ani 
mates  them.  They  make  a  stand  here  for  honor  and  their  rights, 
with  little  ground  for  hope  that  they  can  resist,  now  they  are  be 
trayed  by  France. 

Since  the  30th  of  April,  I  go  almost  daily  to  the  hospitals,  and 
though  I  have  suffered,  for  I  had  no  idea  before  how  terrible 
gun-shot  wounds  and  wound-fevers  are,  yet  I  have  taken  pleasure, 
and  great  pleasure,  in  being  with  the  men.  There  is  scarcely  one 


TO    R.    W.   EMERSON.  435 

who  is  not  moved  by  a  noble  spirit.  Many,  especially  among  the 
Lombards,  are  the  flower  of  the  Italian  youth.  When  they  begin 
to  get  better,  I  carry  them  books  and  flowers  ;  they  read,  and  we 
talk. 

The  palace  of  the  Pope,  on  the  Qtiirinal,  is  now  used  for  con 
valescents.  In  those  beautiful  gardens  I  walk  with  them,  one 
with  his  sling,  another  with  his  crutch.  The  gardener  plays  off 
all  his  water-works  for  the  defenders  of  the  country,  and  gathers 
flowers  for  me,  their  friend. 

A  day  or  two  since,  we  sat  in  the  Pope's  little  pavilion,  where 
he  used  to  give  private  audience.  The  sun  was  going  gloriously 
down  over  Monte  Mario,  where  gleamed  the  white  tents  of  the 
French  light-horse  among  the  trees.  The  cannonade  was  heard 
at  intervals.  Two  bright-eyed  boys  sat  at  our  feet,  and  gathered 
up  eagerly  every  word  said  by  the  heroes  of  the  day.  It  was  a 
beautiful  hour,  stolen  from  the  midst  of  ruin  and  sorrow,  and 
tales  were  told  as  full  of  grace  and  pathos  as  in  the  gardens  of 
Boccaccio,  only  in  a  very  different  spirit,  —  with  noble  hope  for 
man,  and  reverence  for  woman. 

The  young  ladies  of  the  family,  very  young  girls,  were  filled 
with  enthusiasm  for  the  suffering,  wounded  patriots,  and  they 
wished  to  go  to  the  hospital,  to  give  their  services.  Excepting 
the  three  superintendents,  none  but  married  ladies  were  per 
mitted  to  serve  there,  but  their  services  were  accepted.  Their 
governess  then  wished  to  go  too,  and,  as  she  could  speak  sev 
eral  languages,  she  was  admitted  to  the  rooms  of  the  wounded 
soldiers,  to  interpret  for  them,  as  the  nurses  knew  nothing  but 
Italian,  and  many  of  these  poor  men  were  suffering  because 
they  could  not  make  their  wishes  known.  Some  are  French, 
some  Germans,  many  Poles.  Indeed,  I  am  afraid  it  is  too  true 
that  there  were  comparatively  few  Romans  among  them.  This 
young  lady  passed  several  nights  there. 

Should  I  never  return,  and  sometimes  I  despair  of  doing  so,  it 
seems  so  far  off,  —  so  difficult,  I  am  caught  in  such  a  net  of  ties 
here,  —  if  ever  you  know  of  my  life  here,  I  think  you  will  only 
wonder  at  the  constancy  with  which  I  have  sustained  myself,  — 


436  LETTEKS    TO    FRIENDS    AT    HOME. 

the  degree  of  profit  to  which,  amid  great  difficulties,  I  have  put 
the  time,  —  at  least  in  the  way  of  observation.  Meanwhile,  love 
me  all  you  can.  Let  me  feel  that,  amid  the  fearful  agitations  of 
the  world,  there  are  pure  hands,  with  healthful,  even  pulse, 
stretched  out  toward  me,  if  I  claim  their  grasp. 

I  feel  profoundly  for  Mazzini.  At  moments  I  am  tempted  to 
say,  "  Cursed  with  every  granted  prayer,"  —  so  cunning  is  the 
demon.  Mazzini  has  become  the  inspiring  soul  of  his  people.  Pie 
saw  Rome,  to  which  all  his  hopes  through  life  tended,  for  the  first 
time  as  a  Roman  citizen,  and  to  become  in  a  few  days  its  ruler. 
He  has  animated,  he  sustains  her  to  a  glorious  effort,  which,  if  it 
fails  this  time,  will  not  in  the  age.  His  country  will  be  free. 
Yet  to  me  it  would  be  so  dreadful  to  cause  all  this  bloodshed,  — 
to  dig  the  graves  of  such  martyrs ! 

Then,  Rome  is  being  destroyed  ;  her  glorious  oaks, — her  villas, 
haunts  of  sacred  beauty,  that  seemed  the  possession  of  the  world 
for  ever,  —  the  villa  of  Raphael,  the  villa  of  Albani,  home  of 
Winckelmann  and  the  best  expression  of  the  ideal  of  modern 
Rome,  and  so  many  other  sanctuaries  of  beauty,  —  all  must  perish, 
lest  a  foe  should  level  his  musket  from  their  shelter.  I  could 
not,  could  not ! 

I  know  not,  dear  friend,  whether  I  shall  ever  get  home  across 
that  great  ocean,  but  here  in  Rome  I  shall  no  longer  wish  to  live. 

0  Rome,  my  country !    could  I  imagine    that   the    triumph  of 
what  I  held  dear  was  to  heap  such  desolation  on  thy  head  ! 

Speaking  of  the  republic,  you  say,  "  Do  you  not  wish  Italy  had 
a  great  man  ?  "  Mazzini  is  a  great  man.  In  mind,  a  great,  poetic 
statesman ;  in  heart,  a  lover  ;  in  action,  decisive  and  full  of  re 
source  as  Ca3sar.  Dearly  I  love  Mazzini.  He  came  in,  just  as 

1  had  finished  the   first    letter   to  you.     His  soft,  radiant  look 
makes  melancholy  music  in  my  soul ;  it  consecrates  my  present 
life,  that,  like  the  Magdalen,  I  may,  at  the  important  hour,  shed 
all  the  consecrated  ointment  on  his  head.     There  is  one,  Mazzini, 
who  understands  thee  well,  —  who  knew  thee  no  less  when  an  ob 
ject  of  popular  fear  than  now  of  idolatry,  —  and  who,  if  the  pen  be 
not  held  too  feebly,  will  help  posterity  to  know  thee  too  ! 


TO    W.    H.    CHANNING.  437 

TO   HER   SISTER,  MRS.  E.  K.  CHANNING. 

Rome,  June  19,  1849. 

As  was  Eve,  at  first,  I  suppose  every  mother  is  delighted  by 
the  birth  of  a  man-child.  There  is  a  hope  that  he  will  conquer 
more  ill,  and  effect  more  good,  than  is  expected  from  girls.  This 
prejudice  in  favor  of  man  does  not  seem  to  be  destroyed  by  his 
shortcomings  for  ages.  Still,  each  mother  hopes  to  find  in  hers 
an  Emanuel.  I  should  like  very  much  to  see  your  children,  but 
hardly  realize  I  ever  shall.  The  journey  home  seems  so  long,  so 
difficult,  so  expensive.  I  should  really  like  to  lie  down  here,  and 
sleep  my  way  into  another  sphere  of  existence,  if  I  could  take 
with  me  one  or  two  that  love  and  need  me,  and  was  sure  of  a 
good  haven  for  them  on  that  other  side. 

The  world  seems  to  go  so  strangely  wrong  !  The  bad  side 
triumphs ;  the  blood  and  tears  of  the  generous  flow  in  vain.  I 
assist  at  many  saddest  scenes,  and  suffer  for  those  whom  I  knew 
not  before.  Those  whom  I  knew  and  loved,  —  who,  if  they  had 
triumphed,  would  have  opened  for  me  an  easier,  broader,  higher- 
mounting  road,  —  are  every  day  more  and  more  involved  in  earthly 
ruin.  Eternity  is  with  us,  but  there  is  much  darkness  and  bitter 
ness  in  this  portion  of  it.  A  baleful  star  rose  on  my  birth,  and 
its  hostility,  I  fear,  will  never  be  disarmed  while  I  walk  below. 


TO  W .  H.  CHANNING. 

July,  1849. 

I  CANNOT  tell  you  what  I  endured  in  leaving  Rome,  abandon 
ing  the  wounded  soldiers,  —  knowing  that  there  is  no  provision 
made  for  them,  when  they  rise  from  the  beds  where  they  have 
been  thrown  by  a  noble  courage,  and  have  suffered  with  a  noble 
patience.  Some  of  the  poorer  men,  who  rise  bereft  even  of  the 
right  arm,  —  one  having  lost  both  the  right  arm  and  the  right 
leg,  —  I  could  have  provided  for  with  a  small  sum.  Could  I 
37* 


438  LETTERS    TO    FRIENDS    AT    HOME. 

have  sold  my  hair,  or  blood  from  my  arm,  I  would  have  done  it. 
Had  an}1  of  the  rich  Americans  remained  in  Rome,  they  would  have 
given  it  to  me ;  they  helped  nobly  at  first,  in  the  service  of  the 
hospitals,  when  there  was  far  less  need;  but  they  had  all  gone. 
What  would  I  have  given  could  I  but  have  spoken  to  one  of  the 
Lawrences,  or  the  Phillipses  !  They  could  and  would  have  saved 
this  misery.  These  poor  men  are  left  helpless  in  the  power  of  a 
mean  and  vindictive  foe.  You  felt  so  oppressed  in  the  Slave 
States  ;  imagine  what  I  felt  at  seeing  all  the  noblest  youth,  all 
the  genius  of  this  dear  land,  again  enslaved ! 


TO  HER  MOTHER. 

Florence,  February  6,  1850. 

DEAREST  MOTHER,  —  After  receiving  your  letter  of  October, 
I  answered  immediately ;  but  as  Richard  mentions,  in  one  dated 
December  4th,  that  you  have  not  heard,  I  am  afraid,  by  some 
post-office  mistake,  it  went  into  the  mail-bag  of  some  sail-ship, 
instead  of  steamer,  so  you  were  very  long  without  hearing.  I 
regret  it  the  more,  as  I  wanted  so  much  to  respond  fully  to 
your  letter,  —  so  lovely,  so  generous,  and  which,  of  all  your  acts 
of  love,  was  perhaps  the  one  most  needed  by  me,  and  which  has 
touched  me  the  most  deeply. 

I  gave  you  in  that  a  flattering  picture  of  our  life.  And  those 
pleasant  days  lasted  till  the  middle  of  December ;  but  then 
came  on  a  cold  unknown  to  Italy,  and  which  has  lasted  ever  since. 
As  the  apartments  were  not  prepared  for  such  weather,  we  suf- 
'  fered  a  good  deal.  Besides,  both  Ossoli  and  myself  were  taken 
ill  at  New- Year's  time,  and  were  not  quite  well  again,  all  Janu 
ary  :  now  we  are  quite  well.  The  weather  begins  to  soften, 
though  still  cloudy,  damp,  and  chilly,  so  that  poor  baby  can  go  out 
very  little  ;  on  that  account  he  does  not  grow  so  fast,  and  gets 
troublesome  by  evening,  as  he  tires  of  being  shut  up  in  two  or 
three  little  rooms,  where  he  has  examined  every  object  hundreds 


TO    IIEtl    MOTHER.  439 

of  times.  He  is  always  pointing  to  the  door.  He  suffers  much, 
with  chilblains,  as  do  other  children  here ;  however,  he  is, 
with  that  exception,  in  the  best  health,  and  is  a  great  part  of  the 
time  very  gay,  laughing  and  dancing  in  the  nurse-maid's  arms, 
and  trying  to  sing  and  drum,  in  imitation  of  the  bands,  which  play 
a  great  deal  in  the  Piazza. 

Nothing  special  has  happened  to  me.  The  uninhabitableness 
of  the  rooms  where  I  had  expected  to  write,  and  the  need  of 
using  our  little  dining-room,  the  only  one  in  which  is  a  stove,  for 
dressing  baby,  taking  care  of  him,  eating,  and  receiving  visits  and 
messages,  have  prevented  my  writing  for  six  or  seven  weeks  past. 
In  the  evening,  when  baby  went  to  bed,  about  eight,  I  began  to 
have  time,  but  was  generally  too  tired  to  do  anything  but  read. 
The  four  hours,  however,  from  nine  till  one,  beside  the  bright 
little  fire,  have  been  very  pleasant.  I  have  thought  of  you  a 
great  deal,  remembering  how  you  suffer  from  cold  in  the  winter, 
and  hope  you  are  in  a  warm,  comfortable  house,  have  pleasant 
books  to  read,  and  some  pleasant  friends  to  see.  One  does  not 
want  many ;  only  a  few  bright  faces  to  look  in  now  and  then,  and 
help  thaw  the  ice  with  little  rills  of  genial  conversation.  I  have 
fewer  of  these  than  at  Rome,  —  but  still  several. 

Horace  Sumner,  youngest  son  of  father's  friend,  Mr.  Charles 
P.  Sumner,  lives  near  us,  and  comes  every  evening  to  read  a  little 
while  with  Ossoli.  He  has  solid  good  in  his  heart  and  mind.  We 
have  a  true  regard  for  him,  and  he  has  shown  true  and  steadfast 
sympathy  for  us ;  when  I  am  ill  or  in  a  hurry,  he  helps  me  like 
a  brother.  Ossoli  and  Sumner  exchange  some  instruction  hi 
English  and  Italian. 


o 


My  sister's  last  letter  from  Europe  is  full  of  solemnity,  and  evi 
dences  her  clear  conviction  of  the  perils  of  the  voyage  across  the 
treacherous  ocean.  It  is  a  leave-taking,  dearly  cherished  now  by 


440  LETTERS    TO    FRIENDS    AT    HOME. 

the  mother  to  whom  it  was  addressed,  the  kindred  of  whom  she 
speaks,  and  by  those  other  kindred,  —  those  who  in  spirit  felt  near 
to  and  loved  her.  It  is  as  follows  :  — 

Florence,  May  14,  1850. 

"DEAR  MOTHER,  —  I  will  believe  I  shall  be  Avelcome  with 
my  treasures,  —  my  husband  and  child.  For  me,  I  long  so 
much  to  see  you  !  Should  anything  hinder  our  meeting  upon 
earth,  think  of  your  daughter,  as  one  who  always  wished,  at  least, 
to  do  her  duty,  and  who  always  cherished  you,  according  as  her 
mind  opened  to  discover  excellence. 

"  Give  dear  love,  too,  to  my  brothers  ;  and  first  to  my  eldest, 
faithful  friend,  Eugene  ;  a  sister's  love  to  Ellen ;  love  to  my  kind 
good  aunts,  and  to  my  dear  cousin  E.  God  bless  them  ! 

"  I  hope  we  shall  be  able  to  pass  some  time  together  yet,  in 
this  world.  But  if  God  decrees  otherwise,  —  here  and  HERE 
AFTER,  my  dearest  mother, 

"  Your  loving  child, 

"  MARGARET." 


PART   IT. 

HOMEWARD  VOYAGE,  AND   MEMORIALS. 


HOMEWARD   VOYAGE. 


IT  seems  proper  that  some  account  of  the  sad  close  of  Madame 
Ossoli's  earthly  journeyings  should  be  embodied  in  this  volume 
recording  her  travels.  But  a  brother's  hand  trembles  even  now  and 
cannot  write  it.  Noble,  heroic,  unselfish,  Christian  wa?  that  death, 
even  as  had  been  her  life ;  but  its  outward  circumstances  were  too 
painful  for  my  pen  to  describe.  Nor  needs  it,  —  for  a  scene  like 
that  must  have  impressed  itself  indelibly  on  those  who  witnessed 
it,  and  accurate  and  vivid  have  been  their  narratives.  The  Me 
moirs  of  my  sister  contain  a  most  faithful  description  ;  but  as  they 
are  accessible  to  all,  and  I  trust  will  be  read  by  all  who  have  read 
this  volume,  I  have  chosen  rather  to  give  the  accounts  somewhat 
condensed  which  appeared  in  the  New  York  Tribune  at  the  time 
of  the  calamity.  The  first  is  from  the  pen  of  Bayard  Taylor,  who 
visited  the  scene  on  the  day  succeeding  the  wreck,  and  describes 
the  appearance  of  the  shore  and  the  remains  of  the  vessel.  This 
is  followed  by  the  narrative  of  Mrs.  Hasty,  wife  of  the  captain, 
herself  a  participant  in  the  scene,  and  so  overwhelmed  by  grief 
at  her  husband's  loss,  and  that  of  friends  she  had  learned  so 
much  to  value,  that  she  has  since  faded  from  this  life.  A  true 
and  noble  woman,  her  account  deserves  to  be  remembered.  The 
third  article  is  from  the  pen  of  Horace  Greeley,  my  sister's  ever- 
valued  friend.  Several  poems,  suggested  by  this  scene,  written  by 
those  in  the  Old  World  and  New  who  loved  and  honored  Madame 
Ossoli,  are  also  inserted  here.  The  respect  they  testify  for  the 
departed  is  soothing  to  the  hearts  of  kindred,  and  to  the  many  who 
love  and  cherish  the  memory  of  Margaret  Fuller.  —  ED. 


444  HOMEWARD    VOYAGE. 

LETTER  OF  BAYARD  TAYLOR. 

Fire  Island,  Tuesday,  July  23. 
To  THE  EDITORS  OF  THE  TRIBUNE:  — 

I  reached  the  house  of  Mr.  Smith  Oakes,  about  one  mile  from 
the  spot  where  the  Elizabeth  was  wrecked,  at  three  o'clock  this 
morning.  The  boat  in  which  I  set  out  last  night  from  Babylon, 
to  cross  the  bay,  was  seven  hours  making  the  passage.  On 
landing  among  the  sand-hills,  Mr.  Oakes  admitted  me  into  his 
house,  and  gave  me  a  place  of  rest  for  the  remaining  two  or  three 
hours  of  the  night. 

This  morning  I  visited  the  wreck,  traversed  the  beach  for  some 
extent  on  both  sides,  and  collected  all  the  particulars  that  are  now 
likely  to  be  obtained,  relative  to  the  closing  scenes  of  this  terrible 
disaster.  The  sand  is  strewn  for  a  distance  of  three  or  four  miles 
with  fragments  of  planks,  spars,  boxes,  and  the  merchandise  with 
which  the  vessel  was  laden.  With  the  exception  of  a  piece  of  her 
broadside,  which  floated  to  the  shore  intact,  all  the  timbers  have 
been  so  chopped  and  broken  by  the  sea,  that  scarcely  a  stick  of 
ten  feet  in  length  can  be  found.  In  front  of  the  wreck  these  frag 
ments  are  piled  up  along  high-water  mark  to  the  height  of  several 
feet,  while  farther  in  among  the  sand-hills  are  scattered  casks  of 
almonds  stove  in,  and  their  contents  mixed  with  the  sand,  sacks  of 
juniper-berries,  oil-flasks.  &c.  About  half  the  hull  remains  under 
water,  not  more  than  fifty  yards  from  the  shore.  The  spars  and 
rigging  belonging  to  the  foremast,  with  part  of  the  mast  itself,  are 
still  attached  to  the  ruins,  surging  over  them  at  every  swell.  Mr. 
Jonathan  Smith,  the  agent  of  the  underwriters,  intended  to  have 
the  surf-boat  launched  this  morning,  for  the  purpose  of  cutting 
away  the  rigging  and  ascertaining  how  the  wreck  lies  ;  but  the 
sea  is  still  too  high. 

From  what  I  can  learn,  the  loss  of  the  Elizabeth  is  mainly  to 
be  attributed  to  the  inexperience  of  the  mate,  Mr.  H.  P.  Bangs, 
who  acted  as  captain  after  leaving  Gibraltar.  By  his  own  state 
ment,  he  supposed  he  was  somewhere  between  Cape  May  and 


LETTER    OF   BAYARD    TAYLOR.  445 

Barnegat,  on  Thursday  evening.  The  vessel  was  consequently 
running  northward,  and  struck  head  on.  At  the  second  thump,  a 
hole  was  broken  in  her  side,  the  seas  poured  through  and  over 
her,  and  she  began  going  to  pieces.  This  happened  at  ten  minutes 
before  four  o'clock.  The  passengers  were  roused  from  their  sleep 
by  the  shock,  and  hurried  out  of  the  cabin  in  their  night-clothes, 
to  take  refuge  on  the  forecastle,  which  was  the  least  exposed  part 
of  the  vessel.  They  succeeded  with  great  difficulty ;  Mrs.  Hasty, 
the  widow  of  the  late  captain,  fell  into  a  hatchway,  from  which 
she  was  dragged  by  a  sailor  who  seized  her  by  the  hair. 

The  swells  increased  continually,  and  the  danger  of  the  vessel 
giving  way  induced  several  of  the  sailors  to  commit  themselves  to 
the  waves.  Previous  to  this  they  divested  themselves  of  their 
clothes,  which  they  tied  to  pieces  of  plank  and  sent  ashore.  These 
were  immediately  seized  upon  by  the  beach  pirates,  and  never 
afterward  recovered.  The  carpenter  cut  loose  some  planks  and 
spars,  and  upon  one  of  these  Madame  Ossoli  was  advised  to  trust 
herself,  the  captain  promising  to  go  in  advance,  with  her  boy. 
She  refused,  saying  that  she  had  no  wish  to  live  without  the  child, 
and  would  not,  at  that  hour,  give  the  care  of  it  to  another.  Mrs. 
Hasty  then  took  hold  of  a  plank,  in  company  with  the  second 
mate,  Mr.  Davis,  through  whose  assistance  she  landed  safely, 
though  terribly  bruised  by  the  floating  timber.  The  captain 
clung  to  a  hatch,  and  was  washed  ashore  insensible,  where  he 
was  resuscitated  by  the  efforts  of  Mr.  Oakes  and  several  others, 
who  were  by  this  time  collected  on  the  beach.  Most  of  the  men 
were  entirely  destitute  of  clothing,  and  some,  who  were  exhausted 
and  ready  to  let  go  their  hold,  were  saved  by  the  islanders,  who 
went  into  the  surf  with  lines  about  their  waists,  and  caught  them. 

The  young  Italian  girl,  Celesta  Pardena,  who  was  bound  for 
New  York,  where  she  had  already  lived  in  the  family  of  Henry 
Peters  Gray,  the  artist,  was  at  first  greatly  alarmed,  and  uttered 
the  most  piercing  screams.  By  the  exertions  of  the  Ossolis  she 
was  quieted,  and  apparently  resigned  to  her  fate.  The  passen 
gers  reconciled  themselves  to  the  idea  of  death.  At  the  proposal 
of  the  Marquis  Ossoli  some  time  was  spent  in  prayer,  after  which 
38 


446  HOMEWARD    VOYAGE. 

ail  .sat  down  calmly  to  await  the  parting  of  the  vessel.  The  Mar 
chioness  Ossoli  was  entreated  by  the  sailors  to  leave  the  vessel,  or 
at  least  to  trust  her  child  to  them,  but  she  steadily  refused. 

Early  in  the  morning  some  men  had  been  sent  to  the  light 
house  for  the  life-boat  which  is  kept  there.  Although  this  is  but 
two  miles  distant,  the  boat  did  not  arrive  till  about  one  o'clock, 
by  which  time  the  gale  had  so  increased,  and  the  swells  were  so 
high  and  terrific,  that  it  was  impossible  to  make  any  use  of  it.  A 
mortar  was  also  brought  for  the  purpose  of  firing  a  line  over  the 
vessel,  to  stretch  a  hawser  between  it  and  the  shore.  The  mortar 
was  stationed  on  the  lee  of  a  hillock,  about  a  hundred  and  fifty 
rods  from  the  wreck,  that  the  powder  might  be  kept  dry.  It  was 
fired  five  times,  but  failed  to  carry  a  line  more  than  half  the  neces 
sary  distance.  Just  before  the  forecastle  sunk,  the  remaining 
sailors  determined  to  leave. 

The  steward,  with  whom  the  child  had  always  been  a  great  fa 
vorite,  took  it,  almost  by  main  force,  and  plunged  with  it  into  the 
sea ;  neither  reached  the  shore  alive.  The  Marquis  Ossoli  was 
soon  afterwards  washed  away,  but  his  wife  remained  in  ignorance 
of  his  fate.  The  cook,  who  was  the  last  person  that  reached  the 
shore  alive,  said  that  the  last  words  he  heard  her  speak  were : 
"I  see  nothing  but  death  before  me,  —  I  shall  never  reach  the 
shore."  It  was  between  two  and  three  o'clock  in  the  afternoon, 
and  after  lingering  for  about  ten  hours,  exposed  to  the  mountain- 
OMS  surf  that  swept  over  the  vessel,  with  the  contemplation  of 
death  constantly  forced  upon  her  mind,  she  was  finally  over 
whelmed  as  the  foremast  fell.  It  is  supposed  that  her  body  and 
that  of  her  husband  are  still  buried  under  the  ruins  of  the  vessel. 
Mr.  Horace  Sumner,  who  jumped  overboard  early  in  the  morning, 
was  never  seen  afterwards. 

The  dead  bodies  that  were  washed  on  shore  were  terribly 
bruised  and  mangled.  That  of  the  young  Italian  girl  was  en 
closed  in  a  rough  box,  and  buried  in  the  sand,  together  with  those 
of  the  sailors.  Mrs.  Hasty  had  by  this  time  found  a  place  of 
shelter  at  Mr.  Oakes's  house,  and  at  her  request  the  body  of  the 
boy,  Angelo  Eugene  Ossoli,  was  carried  thither,  and  kept  for  a 


LETTER    OF    BAYARD    TAYLOR.  447 

day  previous  to  interment.  The  sailors,  who  had  all  formed  a 
strong  attachment  to  him  during  the  voyage,  wept  like  children 
when  they  saw  him.  There  was  some  difficulty  in  finding  a  cof 
fin  when  the  time  of  burial  came,  whereupon  they  took  one  of 
their  chests,  knocked  out  the  tills,  laid  the  body  carefully  inside, 
locked  and  nailed  down  the  lid.  He  was  buried  in  a  little  nook 
between  two  of  the  sand-hills,  some  distance  from  the  sea. 

The  same  afternoon  a  trunk  belonging  to  the  Marchioness 
Ossoli  came  to  shore,  and  was  fortunately  secured  before  the  pi 
rates  had  an  opportunity  of  purloining  it.  Mrs.  Hasty  informs 
me  that  it  contained  several  large  packages  of  manuscripts,  which 
she  dried  carefully  by  the  fire.  I  have  therefore  a  strong  hope 
that  the  work  on  Italy  will  be  entirely  recovered.  In  a  pile  of 
soaked  papers  near  the  door,  I  found  files  of  the  Democratic  Pa- 
cifique  and  II  Nazionale  of  Florence,  as  well  as  several  of  Maz- 
zini's  pamphlets,  which  I  have  preserved. 

An  attempt  will  probably  be  made  to-morrow  to  reach  the  wreck 
with  the  surf-boat.  Judging  from  its  position  and  the  known  depth 
of  the  water,  I  should  think  the  recovery,  not  only  of  the  bodies, 
if  they  are  still  remaining  there,  but  also  of  Powers's  statue  and 
the  blocks  of  rough  Carrara,  quite  practicable,  if  there  should  be  a 
sufficiency  of  still  weather.  There  are  about  a  hundred  and  fifty 
tons  of  marble  under  the  ruins.  The  paintings,  belonging  to 
Mr.  Aspinwall,  which  were  washed  ashore  in  boxes,  and  might 
have  been  saved  had  any  one  been  on  the  spot  to  care  for  them, 
are  for  the  most  part  utterly  destroyed.  Those  which  were  least 
injured  by  the  sea-water  were  cut  from  the  frames  and  carried  off 
by  the  pirates  ;  the  frames  were  broken  in  pieces,  and  scatter*-;! 
along  the  beach.  This  morning  I  found  several  shreds  of  canvas, 
evidently  more  than  a  century  old,  half  buried  in  the  sand.  All 
the  silk,  Leghorn  braid,  hats,  wool,  oil,  almonds,  and  other  articles 
contained  in  the  vessel,  were  carried  off  as  soon  as  they  came  to 
land.  On  Sunday  there  were  nearly  a  thousand  persons  hc'v, 
from  all  parts  of  the  coast  between  Rockaway  and  Montauk,  arid 
more  than  half  of  them  were  engaged  in  secreting  and  carrying 
off*  everything  that  seemed  to  be  of  value. 


448  HOMEWARD    VOYAGE. 

The  two  bodies  found  yesterday  were  those  of  sailors.  All 
have  now  come  to  land  but  those  of  the  Ossolis  and  Horace  Su in 
ner.  If  not  found  in  the  wreck,  they  will  be  cast  ashore  to  the 
westward  of  this,  as  the  current  has  set  in  that  direction  since  the 
gale. 

Yours,  &c. 


THE  WRECK   OF   THE  ELIZABETH. 

FROM  a  conversation  with  Mrs.  Hasty,  widow  of  the  captain 
of  the  ill-fated  P^lizabeth,  we  gather  the  following  particulars  of 
her  voyage  and  its  melancholy  termination. 

We  have  already  stated  that  Captain  Hasty  was  prostrated, 
eight  days  after  leaving  Leghorn,  by  a  disease  which  was  re 
garded  and  treated  as  fever,  but  which  ultimately  exhibited  itself 
as  small-pox  of  the  most  malignant  type.  He  died  of  it  just  as 
the  vessel  reached  Gibraltar,  and  his  remains  were  committed  to 
the  deep.  After  a  short  detention  in  quarantine,  the  Elizabeth 
resumed  her  voyage  on  the  8th  ultimo,  and  was  long  baffled  by  ad 
verse  winds.  Two  days  from  Gibraltar,  the  terrible  disease  which 
had  proved  fatal  to  the  captain  attacked  the  child  of  the  Ossolis, 
a  beautiful  boy  of  two  years,  and  for  many  days  his  recovery  was 
regarded  as  hopeless.  His  eyes  were  completely  closed  for  live 
days,  his  head  deprived  of  all  shape,  and  his  whole  person  cov 
ered  with  pustules  ;  yet,  through  the  devoted  attention  of  his 
parents  and  their  friends,  he  survived,  and  at  length  gradually 
recovered.  Only  a  few  scars  and  red  spots  remained  on  his  face 
and  body,  and  these  were  disappearing,  to  the  great  joy  of  his 
mother,  who  felt  solicitous  that  his  rare  beauty  should  not  be 
marred  at  his  first  meeting  with  those  she  loved,  and  especially 
her  mother. 

At  length,  after  a  month  of  slow  progress,  the  wind  shifted,  and 
blew  strongly  from  the  southwest  for  several  days,  sweeping  them 
rapidly  on  their  course,  until,  on  Thursday  evening  last,  they 


MRS.  HASTY'S  NARRATIVE.  449 

knew  that  they  were  near  the  end  of  their  voyage.  Their  trunks 
were  brought  up  and  repacked,  in  anticipation  of  a  speedy  arrival 
in  port.  Meantime,  the  breeze  gradually  swelled  to  a  gale,  which 
became  decided  about  nine  o'clock  on  that  evening.  But  their  ship 
was  new  and  strong,  and  all  retired  to  rest  as  usual.  They  were 
running  west,  and  supposed  themselves  about  sixty  miles  farther 
south  than  they  actually  were.  By  their  reckoning,  they  would 
be  just  off  the  harbor  of  New  York  next  morning.  About  half 
past  two  o'clock,  Mr.  Bangs,  the  mate  in  command,  took  sound  ings, 
and  reported  twenty-one  fathoms.  He  said  that  depth  insured 
their  safety  till  daylight,  and  turned  in  again.  Of  course,  all  was 
thick  around  the  vessel,  and  the  storm  howling  fiercely.  One 
hour  afterward,  the  ship  struck  with  great  violence,  and  in  a  mo 
ment  was  fast  aground.  She  was  a  stout  brig  of  531  tons,  five 
years  old,  heavily  laden  with  marble,  &c.,  and  drawing  seventeen 
feet  water.  Had  she  been  light,  she  might  have  floated  over  the 
bar  into  twenty  feet  water,  and  all  on  board  could  have  been 
saved.  She  struck  rather  sidewise  than  bows  on,  canted  on  her 
side  and  stuck  fast,  the  mad  waves  making  a  clear  sweep  over 
her,  pouring  down  into  the  cabin  through  the  skylight,  which  was 
destroyed.  One  side  of  the  cabin  was  immediately  and  perma 
nently  under  water,  the  other  frequently  drenched.  The  passen 
gers,  who  were  all  up  in  a  moment,  chose  the  most  sheltered 
positions,  and  there  remained,  calm,  earnest,  and  resigned  to  any 
fate,  for  a  long  three  hours.  No  land  was  yet  visible  ;  they  knew 
not  where  they  were,  but  they  knew  that  their  chance  of  sur 
viving  was  •  small  indeed.  When  the  coast  was  first  visible 
through  the  driving  storm  in  the  gray  light  of  morning,  the  sand 
hills  were  mistaken  for  rocks,  which  made  the  prospect  still  more 
dismal.  The  young  Ossoli  cried  a  little  with  discomfort  and  fright, 
but  was  soon  hushed  to  sleep.  Our  friend  Margaret  had  two  life- 
preservers,  but  one  of  them  proved  unfit  for  use.  All  the  boats 
had  been  smashed  in  pieces  or  torn  away  soon  after  the  vessel 
struck;  and  it  would  have  been  madness  to  launch  them  in 
the  dark,  if  it  had  been  possible  to  launch  them  at  all,  with  the 
waves  charging  over  the  wreck  every  moment.  A  sailor,  soon  after 
38* 


450  HOMEWARD    VOYAGE. 

light,  took  Madame  Ossoli's  serviceable  life-preserver  and  swam 
ashore  with  it,  in  quest  of  aid  for  those  left  on  board,  and  arrived 
safe,  but  of  course  could  not  return  his  means  of  deliverance. 

By  7  A.  M.  it  became  evident  that  the  cabin  must  soon  go  to 
pieces,  and  indeed  it  was  scarcely  tenantable  then.  The  crew 
were  collected  in  the  forecastle,  which  was  stronger  and  less  ex 
posed,  the  vessel  having  settled  by  the  stern,  and  the  sailors  had 
been  repeatedly  ordered  to  go  aft  and  help  the  passengers  for 
ward,  but  the  peril  was  so  great  that  none  obeyed.  At  length 
the  second  mate,  Davis,  went  himself,  and  accompanied  the 
Italian  girl,  Celesta  Pardena,  safely  to  the  forecastle,  though  with 
great  difficulty.  Madame  Ossoli  went  next,  and  had  a  narrow 
escape  from  being  washed  away,  but  got  over.  Her  child  was 
placed  in  a  bag  tied  around  a  sailor's  neck,  and  thus  carried 
safely.  Marquis  Ossoli  and  the  rest  followed,  each  convoyed  by 
the  mate  or  one  of  the  sailors. 

All  being  collected  in  the  forecastle,  it  was  evident  that  their 
position  was  still  most  perilous,  and  that  the  ship  could  not  much 
longer  hold  together.  The  women  were  urged  to  try  first  the 
experiment  of  taking  each  a  plank  and  committing  themselves  to 
the  waves.  Madame  Ossoli  refused  thus  to  be  separated  from  her 
husband  and  child.  She  had  from  the  first  expressed  a  willing- 
•  ness  to  live  or  die  with  them,  but  not  to  live  without  them.  Mrs. 
Hasty  was  the  first  to  try  the  plank,  and,  though  the  struggle 
was  for  some  time  a  doubtful  one,  did  finally  reach  the  shore, 
utterly  exhausted.  There  was  a  strong  current  setting  to  the 
westward,  so  that,  though  the  wreck  lay  but  a  quarter  of  a  mile 
from  the  shore,  she  landed  three  fourths  of  a  mile  distant.  No 
other  woman,  and  no  passenger,  survives,  though  several  of  the 
crew  came  ashore  after  she  did,  in  a  similar  manner.  The  last 
who  came  reports  that  the  child  had  been  washed  away  from  the 
man  who  held  it  before  the  ship  broke  up,  that  Ossoli  had  in 
like  manner  been  washed  from  the  foremast,  to  which  he  was 
clinging;  but,  in  the  horror  of  the  moment,  Margaret  never 
learned  that  those  she  so  clung  to  had  preceded  her  to  the 
spirit  land.  Those  who  remained  of  the  crew  had  just  persuaded 


PASSENGERS    LOST   IN    THE    ELIZABETH.  451 

her  to  trust  herself  to  a  plank,  in  the  belief  that  Ossoli  and  their 
child  had  already  started  for  the  shore,  when  just  as  she  was 
stepping  down,  a  great  wave  broke  over  the  vessel  and  swept  her 
into  the  boiling  deep.  She  never  rose  again.  The  ship  broke 
up  soon  after  (about  10  A.  M.  Mrs.  Hasty  says,  instead  of  the 
later  hour  previously  reported)  ;  but  both  mates  and  most  of  the 
crew  got  on  one  fragment  or  another.  It  was  supposed  that 
those  of  them  who  were  drowned  were  struck  by  floating  spars  or 
planks,  and  thus  stunned  or  disabled  so  as  to  preclude  all  chance 
of  their  rescue. 

We  do  not  know  at  the  time  of  this  writing  whether  the  manu 
script  of  our  friend's  work  on  Italy  and  her  late  struggles  has 
been  saved.  We  fear  it  has  not  been.  One  of  her  trunks  is 
known  to  have  been  saved ;  but,  though  it  contained  a  good  many 
papers,  Mrs.  Hasty  believes  that  this  was  not  among  them.  The 
author  had  thrown  her  whole  soul  into  this  work,  had  enjoyed 
the  fullest  opportunities  for  observation,  was  herself  a  partaker  in 
the  gallant  though  unsuccessful  struggle  which  has  redeemed  the 
name  of  Rome  from  the  long  rust  of  sloth,  servility,  and  coward 
ice,  was  the  intimate  friend  and  compatriot  of  the  Republican 
leaders,  and  better  fitted  than  any  one  else  to  refute  the  calum 
nies  and  falsehoods  with  which  their  names  have  been  blackened 
by  the  champions  of  aristocratic  "  order  "  throughout  the  civilized 
world.  We  cannot  forego  the  hope  that  her  work  on  Italy  has 
been  saved,  or  will  yet  be  recovered. 


THE  following  is  a  complete  list  of  the  persons  lost  by  the 
wreck  of  the  ship  Elizabeth :  — 

Giovanni,  Marquis  Ossoli. 
Margaret  Fuller  Ossoli. 
Their  child,  Eugene  Angelo  Ossoli. 
Celesta  Pardena,  of  Rome. 
Horace  Sumner,  of  Boston. 
George  Sanford,  seaman  (Swede). 
Henry  Westervelt,  seaman  (Swede). 
George  Bates,  steward. 


452  HOMEWARD    VOYAGE. 


DEATH   OF  MARGARET  FULLER. 

A  GEEAT  soul  has  passed  from  this  mortal  stage  of  being  by 
the  death  of  MARGARET  FULLER,  by  marriage  Marchioness  Os- 
soli,  who,  with  her  husband  and  child,  Mr.  Horace  Sumner  of 
Boston,*  and  others,  was  drowned  in  the  wreck  of  the  brig  Eliz 
abeth  from  Leghorn  for  this  port,  on  the  south  shore  of  Long 
Island,  near  Fire  Island,  on  Friday  afternoon  last.  No  pas 
senger  survives  to  tell  the  story  of  that  night  of  horrors,  whose 
fury  appalled  many  of  our  snugly  sheltered  citizens  reposing  se 
curely  in  their  beds.  We  can  adequately  realize  what  it  must 
have  been  to  voyagers  approaching  our  coast  from  the  Old  World, 
on  vessels  helplessly  exposed  to  the  rage  of  that  wild  southwest 
ern  gale,  and  seeing  in  the  long  and  anxiously  expected  land  of 
their  youth  and  their  love  only  an  aggravation  of  their  perils,  a 
death-blow  to  their  hopes,  an  assurance  of  their  temporal  doom ! 

Margaret  Fuller  was  the  daughter  of  Hon.  Timothy  Fuller,  a 
lawyer  of  Boston,  but  nearly  all  his  life  a  resident  of  Cambridge, 
and  a  Representative  of  the  Middlessex  District  in  Congress  from 
1817  to  1825.  Mr.  Fuller,  upon  his  retirement  from  Congress, 
purchased  a  farm  at  some  distance  from  Boston,  and  abandoned 
law  for  agriculture,  soon  after  which  he  died.  His  widow  and 
six  children  still  survive. 


*  Horace  Sumner,  one  of  the  victims  of  the  lamentable  wreck  of  the  Elizabeth, 
was  the  votingest  son  of  the  late  Hon.  Charles  P.  Sumner,  of  Boston,  for  many 
years  Sheriff  of  Suffolk  County,  and  the  brother  of  George  Sumner,  Esq.,  the 
distinguished  American  writer,  now  resident  at  Paris,  and  of  Hon.  Charles  Sum 
ner  of  Boston,  who  is  well  known  for  his  legal  and  literary  eminence  throughout 
the  country.  He  was  about  twenty-four  years  of  age,  and  had  been  abroad  for 
nearly  a  year,  travelling  in  the  South  of  Europe  for  the  benefit  of  his  health.  The 
past  winter  was  spent  by  him  chiefly  in  Florence,  where  he  was  on  terms  of 
familiar  intimacy  with  the  Marquis  and  Marchioness  Ossoli,  and  was  induced 
to  take  passage  in  the  same  vessel  with  them  for  his  return  to  his  native  land. 
He  was  a  voung  man  of  singular  modesty  of  deportment,  of  an  original  turn  of 
mind,  and  greatly  endeared  to  his  friends  by  the  sweetness  of  his  disposition  and 
the  purity  of  his  character. 


BIOGRAPHY    OP    MADAME    OSSOLI.  453 

Margaret,  if  we  mistake  not,  was  the  first-born,  and  from  a  very 
early  age  evinced  the  possession  of  remarkable  intellectual  pow 
ers.  Her  father  regarded  her  with  a  proud  admiration,  and  was 
from  childhood  her  chief  instructor,  guide,  companion,  and  friend. 
He  committed  the  too  common  error  of  stimulating  her  intellect 
to  an  assiduity  and  persistency  of  effort  which  severely  taxed  and 
ultimately  injured  her  physical  powers.*  At  eight  years  of  age 
he  was  accustomed  to  require  of  her  the  composition  of  a  number 
of  Latin  verses  per  day,  while  her  studies  in  philosophy,  history, 
general  science,  and  current  literature  were  in  after  years  ex 
tensive  and  profound.  After  her  father's  death,  she  applied  her 
self  to  teaching  as  a  vocation,  first  in  Boston,  then  in-  Providence, 
and  afterward  in  Boston  again,  where  her  "  Conversations  "  were 
for  several  seasons  attended  by  classes  of  women,  some  of  them 
married,  and  including  many  from  the  best  families  of  the  "  Ameri 
can  Athens." 

In  the  autumn  of  1844,  she  accepted  an  invitation  to  take  part 
in  the  conduct  of  the  Tribune,  with  especial  reference  to  the  de 
partment  of  Reviews  and  Criticism  on  current  Literature,  Art, 
Music,  &c. ;  a  position  which  she  filled  for  nearly  two  years,  —  how 
eminently,  our  readers  well  know.  Her  reviews  of  Longfellow's 
Poems,  Wesley's  Memoirs,  Poe's  Poems,  Bailey's  "  Festus," 
Douglas's  Life,  &c.  must  yet  be  remembered  by  many.  She  had 
previously  found  "  fit  audience,  though  few,"  for  a  series  of  re 
markable  papers  on  "  The  Great  Musicians,"  "  Lord  Herbert  of 
Cherbury,"  "  Woman,"  &c.,  &c.,  in  "  The  Dial,"  a  quarterly  of 
remarkable  breadth  and  vigor,  of  which  she  was  at  first  co-editor 
with  Ralph  Waldo  Emerson,  but  which  was  afterward  edited  by 
him  only,  though  she  continued  a  contributor  to  its  pages.  In  1843, 
she  accompanied  some  friends  on  a  tour  via  Niagara,  Detroit,  and 
Mackinac  to  Chicago,  and  across  the  prairies  of  Illinois,  and  her 


*  I  think  this  opinion  somewhat  erroneous,  for  reasons  which  I  have  already 
given  in  the  edition  recently  published  of  Woman  in  the  Nineteenth  Century. 
The  render  is  referred  to  page  352  of  that  work,  and  also  to  page  38,  where  I  be 
lieve  my  sister  personified  herself  under  the  name  of  Miranda,  and  stated  clearly 
and  justly  the  relation  which  existed  between  her  father  and  herself.  —  ED. 


454  HOMEWARD    VOYAGE. 

resulting  volume,  entitled  "  Summer  on  the  Lakes,"  is  one  of  the 
best  works  in  this  department  ever  issued  from  the  American 
press.  It  was  too  good  to  be  widely  and  instantly  popular.  Her 
"  Woman  in  the  Nineteenth  Century "  —  an  extension  of  her 
essay  in  the  Dial  —  was  published  by  us  early  in  1845,  and  a 
moderate  edition  sold.  The  next  year,  a  selection  from  her  u  Pa 
pers  on  Literature  and  Art"  was  issued  by  Wiley  and  Putnam,  in 
two  fair  volumes  of  their  "  Library  of  American  Books."  We 
believe  the  origina^  edition  was  nearly  or  quite  exhausted,  but  a 
second  has  not  been  called  for,  while  books  nowise  comparable  to 
it  for  strength  or  worth  have  run  through  half  a  dozen  editions.* 
These  "  Papers  "  embody  some  of  her  best  contributions  to  the 
Dial,  the  Tribune,  and  perhaps  one  or  two  which  had  not  ap 
peared  in  either. 

In  the  summer  of  1845,  Miss  Fuller  accompanied  the  family  of 
a  devoted  friend  to  Europe,  visiting  England,  Scotland,  France, 
and  passing  through  Italy  to  Rome,  where  they  spent  the  ensuing 
winter.  She  accompanied  her  friends  next  spring  to  the  Xorth  of 
Italv,  and  there  stopped,  spending  most  of  the  summer  at  Florence, 
and  returning  at  the  approach  of  winter  to  Rome,  where  she  was 
soon  after  married  to  Giovanni,  Marquis  Ossoli,  who  had  made 
her  acquaintance  during  her  first  winter  in  the  Eternal  City. 
They  have  since  resided  in  the  Roman  States  until  the  last  sum 
mer,  after  the  surrender  of  Rome  to  the  French  army  of  assassins 
of  liberty,  when  they  deemed  it  expedient  to  migrate  to  Florence, 
both  having  taken  an  active  part  in  the  Republican  movement 
which  resulted  so  disastrously,  —  nay,  of  which  the  ultimate  re 
sult  is  yet  to  be  witnessed.  Thence  in  June  they  departed  and 
set  sail  at  Leghorn  for  this  port,  in  the  Philadelphia  brig  Eliza 
beth,  which  was  doomed  to  encounter  a  succession  of  disasters. 
They  had  not  been  many  days  at  sea  when  the  captain  was  pros 
trated  by  a  disease  which  ultimately  exhibited  itself  as  confluent 
small-pox  of  the  most  malignant  type,  and  terminated  his  life 
soon  after  they  touched  at  Gibraltar,  after  a  sickness  of  intense 

*  A  second  edition  has  since  been  published.  — ED. 


BIOGRAPHY    OF   MADAME    OSSOLI.  455 

agony  and  loathsome  horror.  The  vessel  was  detained  some  days 
in  quarantine  by  reason  of  this  affliction,  but  finally  set  sail  again 
on  the  8th  ultimo,  just  in  season  to  bring  her  on  our  coast  on  the 
fearful  night  between  Thursday  and  Friday  last,  when  darkness, 
rain,  and  a  terrific  gale  from  the  southwest  (the  most  dangerous 
quarter  possible),  conspired  to  hurl  her  into  the  very  jaws  of  de 
struction.  It  is  said,  but  we  know  not  how  truly,  that  the  mate 
in  command  since  the  captain's  death  mistook  the  Fire  Island 
light  for  that  on  the  Highlands  of  Neversink,  and  so  fatally  mis 
calculated  his  course  ;  but  it  is  hardly  probable  that  any  other 
than  a  first-class,  fully  manned  ship  could  have  worked  off  that 
coast  under  such  a  gale,  blowing  him  directly  toward  the  roaring 
breakers.  She  struck  during  the  night,  and  before  the  next  even 
ing  the  Elizabeth  was  a  mass  of  drifting  sticks  and  planks,  while 
her  passengers  and  part  of  her  crew  were  buried  in  the  boiling 
surges.  Alas  that  our  gifted  friend,  and  those  nearest  to  and 
most  loved  by  her,  should  have  been  among  them ! 

We  trust  a  new,  compact,  and  cheap  edition  or  selection  of 
Margaret  Fuller's  writings  will  soon  be  given  to  the  public,  pref 
aced  by  a  Memoir.  It  were  a  shame  to  us  if  one  so  radiantly 
lofty  in  intellect,  so  devoted  to  human  liberty  and  well-being,  so 
ready  to  dare  and  to  endure  for  the  upraising  of  her  sex  and  her 
race,  should  perish  from  among  us,  and  leave  no  memento  less  im 
perfect  and  casual  than  those  we  now  have.  We  trust  the  more 
immediate  relatives  of  our  departed  friend  will  lose  no  time  in 
selecting  the  fittest  person  to  prepare  a  Memoir,  with  a  selection 
from  her  writings,  for  the  press.*  America  has  produced  no 
woman  who  in  mental  endowments  and  acquirements  has  sur 
passed  Margaret  Fuller,  and  it  will  be  a  public  misfortune  if  her 
thoughts  are  not  promptly  and  acceptably  embodied. 

*  The  reader  is  aware  that  such  a  Memoir  has  since  been  published,  and  that 
several  of  her  works  have  been  republished  likewise.  I  trust  soon  to  publish  a 
volume  of  Madame  Ossoli's  Miscellaneous  Writings.  —  ED. 


456  MEMORIALS. 


MARGARET  FULLER  OSSOLI. 

BY   C.   P.   CRANCH. 

O  STILL  sweet  summer  days  !     0  moonlight  nights ! 
After  so  drear  a  storm  how  can  ye  shine  ? 
O  smiling  world  of  many-hued  delights, 
How  canst  thou  'round  our  sad  hearts  still  entwine 
The  accustomed  wreaths  of  pleasure  ?     How,  O  Day, 
Wakest  thou  so  full  of  beauty  ?     Twilight  deep, 
How  diest  thou  so  tranquilly  away  ? 
And  how,  O  Night,  bring'st  thou  the  sphere  of  sleep  ? 
For  she  is  gone  from  us,  —  gone,  lost  for  ever,  — 
In  the  wild  billows' swallowed  up  and  lost,  — 
Gone,  full  of  love,  life,  hope,  and  high  endeavor, 
Just  when  we  would  have  welcomed  her  the  most. 

Was  it  for  this,  O  woman,  true  and  pure ! 

That  life  through  shade  and  light  had  formed  thy  mind 

To  feel,  imagine,  reason,  and  endure,  — 

To  soar  for  truth,  to  labor  for  mankind  ? 

Was  it  for  this  sad  end  thou  didst  bear  thy  part 

In  deeds  and  word^  for  struggling  Italy,  — 

Devoting  thy  large  mind  and  larger  heart 

That  Rome  in  later  days  might  yet  be  free  ? 

And,  from  that  home  driven  out  by  tyranny, 

Didst  turn  to  see  thy  fatherland  once  more, 

Bearing  affection's  dearest  ties  with  thee ; 

And  as  the  vessel  bore  thee  to  our  shore, 

And  hope  rose  to  fulfilment,  —  on  the  deck, 

When  friends  seemed  almost  beckoning  unto  thee : 

O  Gqd  !  the  fearful  storm,  —  the  splitting  wreck,  — 

The  drowning  billows  of  the  dreary  sea  ! 


C.    P.    CRANCH.  457 

O,  many  a  heart  was  stricken  dumb  with  grief! 

We  who  had  known  thee  here,  —  had  met  thee  there 

Where  Rome  threw  golden  light  on  every  leaf 

Life's  volume  turned  in  that  enchanted  air,  — 

O  friend  !  how  we  recall  the  Italian  days 

Amid  the  Caesar's  ruined  palace  halls,  — 

The  Coliseum,  and  the  frescoed  blaze 

Of  proud  St.  Peter's  dome,  —  the  Sistine  walls,  — 

The  lone  Campagna  and  the  village  green,  — 

The  Vatican,  —  the  music  and  dim  light 

Of  gorgeous  temples,  —  statues,  pictures,  seen 

With  thee  :  those  sunny  days  return  so  bright, 

Now  thou  art  gone  !     Thou  hast  a  fairer  world 

Than  that  bright  clime.     The  dreams  that  filled  thee  here 

Now  find  divine  completion,  and,  unfurled 

Thy  spirit-wings,  find  out  their  own  high  sphere. 

Farewell !  thought-gifted,  noble-hearted  one  ! 

We,  who  have  known  thee,  know  thou  art  not  lost ; 

The  star  that  set  in  storms  still  shines  upon 

The  o'ershadowing  cloud,  and,  when  we  sorrow  most, 

In  the  blue  spaces  of  God's  firmament 

Beams  out  with  purer  light  than  we  have  known, 

Above  the  tempest  and  the  wild  lament 

Of  those  who  weep  the  radiance  that  is  flown. 


458  MEMORIALS. 


THE   DEATH   OF  MAEGARET  FULLER   OSSOLI. 

BY   MARY   C.   AMES. 

O  ITALY  !  amid  thy  scenes  of  blood, 

She  acted  long  a  woman's  noble  part ! 
Soothing  the  dying  of  thy  sons,  proud  Rome  ! 

Till  thou  wert  bowed,  O  city  of  her  heart ! 
When  thou  hadst  fallen,  joy  no  longer  flowed 

In  the  rich  sunlight  of  thy  heaven  ; 
And  from  thy  glorious  domes  and  shrines  of  art, 

No  quickening  impulse  to  her  life  was  given. 

From  the  deep  shadow  of  thy  cypress  hills, 

From  the  soft  beauty  of  thy  classic  plains, 
The  noble-hearted,  with  her  treasures,  turned 

To  the  far  land  where  Freedom  proudly  reigns. 
After  the  rocking  of  long  years  of  storms, 

Her  weary  spirit  looked  and  longed  for  rest ; 
Pictures  of  home,  of  loved  and  kindred  forms, 

Rose  warm  and  life-like  in  her  aching  breast. 

But  the  wild  ocean  rolled  before  her  home  ; 

And,  listening  long  unto  its  fearful  moan, 
She  thought  of  myriads  who  had  found  their  rest 

Down  in  its  caverns,  silent,  deep,  and  lone. 
Then  rose  the  prayer  within  her  heart  of  hearts, 

With  the  dark  phantoms  of  a  coming  grief, 
That  "  Nino,  Ossoli,  and  I  may  go 

Together,  —  that  the  anguish  may  be  brief/' 

The  bark  spread  out  her  pennons  proud  and  free, 
The  sunbeams  frolicked  with  the  wanton  waves  ; 

Smiled  through  the  long,  long  days  the  summer  sea, 
And  sung  sweet  requiems  o'er  her  sunken  graves. 


MARY    C.    AMES.  459 

E'en  then  the  shadow  of  the  fearful  King 

Hung  deep  and  darkening  o'er  the  fated  bark ; 

Suffering  and  death  and  anguish  reigned,  ere  came 
Hope's  weary  dove  back  to  the  longing  ark. 

This  was  the  morning  to  the  night  of  woe  ; 

When  the  grim  Ocean,  in  his  fiercest  wrath, 
Held  fearful  contest  with  the  god  of  storms, 

Who  lashed  the  waves  with  death  upon  his  path. 
0  night  of  agony  !     O  awful  morn, 

That  oped  on  such  a  scene  thy  sullen  eyes  ! 
The  shattered  ship,  —  those  wrecked  and  broken  hearts, 

Who  only  prayed,  "  Together  let  us  die" 

Was  this  thy  greeting  longed  for,  Margaret, 

In  the  high  noontide  of  thy  lofty  pride  ? 
The  welcome  sighed  for,  in  thine  hours  of  grief, 

When  pride  had  fled  and  hope  in  thee  had  died  ? 
Twelve  hours'  communion  with  the  Terror-King ! 

No  wandering  hope  to  give  the  heart  relief! 
And  yet  thy  prayer  was  heard,  —  the  cold  waves  wrapt 

Those  forms  "  together,"  and  the  woe  was  "  brief." 

Thus  closed  thy  day  in  darkness  and  in  tears ; 

Thus  waned  a  life,  alas  !  too  full  of  pain ; 
But  O  thou  noble  woman  !  thy  brief  life, 

Though  full  of  sorrows,  was  not  lived  in  vain. 
No  more  a  pilgrim  o'er  a  weary  waste, 

With  light  ineffable  thy  mind  is  crowned  ; 
Heaven's  richest  lore  is  thine  own  heritage  ; 

All  height  is  gained,  thy  "  kingdom  "  now  is  found. 


460  MEMORIALS. 

TO  THE  MEMORY   OF  MARGARET  FULLER. 

BY   E.    OAKES    SMITH. 

WE  hailed  thee,  Margaret,  from  the  sea, 

We  hailed  thee  o'er  the  wave, 
And  little  thought,  in  greeting  thee, 

Thy  home  would  be  a  grave. 

We  blest  thee  in  thy  laurel  crown, 

And  in  the  myrtle's  sheen,  — 
Rejoiced  thy  noble  worth  to  own, 

Still  joy,  our  tears  between. 

We  hoped  that  many  a  happy  year 

Would  bless  thy  coming  feet ; 
And  thy  bright  fame  grow  brighter  here, 

By  Fatherland  made  sweet. 

Gone,  gone  !  with  all  thy  glorious  thought,  — 

Gone  with  thy  waking  life,  — 
With  the  green  chaplet  Fame  had  wrought, — 

The  joy  of  Mother,  Wife. 

Oh !  who  shall  dare  thy  harp  to  take, 

And  pour  upon  the  air 
The  clear,  calm  music,  that  should  wake 

The  heart  to  love  and  prayer  ! 

The  lip,  all  eloquent,  is  stilled 

And  silent  with  its  trust,  — 
The  heart,  with  Woman's  greatness  filled, 

Must  crumble  to  the  dust : 

But  from  thy  great  heart  we  will  take 
New  courage  for  the  strife  ; 


SLEEP    SWEETLY,    GENTLE    CHILD.  461 

From  petty  ills  our  bondage  break, 
And  labor  with  new  life. 

Wake  up,  in  darkness  though  it  be, 

To  better  truth  and  light ; 
Patient  in  toil,  as  we  saw  thee, 

In  searching  for  the  light ; 

And  mindless  of  the  scorn  it  brings, 

For  't  is  in  desert  land 
That  angels  come  with  sheltering  wings 

To  lead  us  by  the  hand. 

Courageous  one  !  thou  art  not  lost, 

Though  sleeping  in  the  wave ; 
Upon  its  chainless  billows  tost, 

For  thee  is  fitting  grave. 


SLEEP   SWEETLY,  GENTLE   CHILD.* 

[The  only  child  of  the  Marchioness  Ossoli,  well  known  as  Margaret  Fuller,  is 
buried  in  the  Valley  Cemetery,  at  Manchester,  N.  H.  There  is  always  a  vase  of 
flowers  placed  near  the  grave,  and  a  marble  slab,  with  a  cross  and  lily  sculptured 
upon  it,  bears  this  inscription:  "  In  Memory  of  Angelo  Eugene  Philip  Ossoli,  who 
was  born  at  Rieti,  in  Italy,  6th  September,  1848,  and  perished  by  shipwreck  off 
Fire  Island,  with  both  his  parents,  Giovanni  Angelo  and  Margaret  Fuller  Ossoli, 
on  the  19th  of  July,  1850."] 

SLEEP  sweetly,  gentle  child !  though  to  this  sleep 
The  cold  winds  rocked  thee,  on  the  ocean's  breast, 

And  strange,  wild  murmurs  o'er  the  dark,  blue  deep 
Were  the  last  sounds  that  lulled  thee  to  thy  rest, 


*  These  lines  are  beautiful  and  full  of  sweet  sympathy.  The  home  of  the 
mother  and  brother  of  Margaret  Fuller  being  now  removed  from  Manchester  to 
Boston,  the  remains  of  the  little  child,  too  dear  to  remain  distant  from  us,  have 
been  removed  to  Mount  Auburn.  The  same  marble  slab  is  there  with  its  in 
scription,  and  the  lines  deserve  insertion  here.  —  ED. 
39* 


462  MEMORIALS. 

And  while  the  moaning  waves  above  thee  rolled, 
The  hearts  that  loved  thee  best  grew  still  and  cold. 

Sleep  sweetly,  gentle  child !  though  the  loved  tone 
That  twice  twelve  months  had  hushed  thee  to  repose 

Could  give  no  answer  to  the  tearful  moan 
That  faintly  from  thy  sea-moss  pillow  rose. 

That  night  the  arms  that  closely  folded  thee 

"Were  the  wet  weeds  that  floated  in  the  sea. 

Sleep  sweetly,  gentle  child !  the  cold,  blue  wave 
Hath  pitied  the  sad  sighs  the  wild  winds  bore, 

And  from  the  wreck  it  held  one  treasure  gave 
To  the  fond  watchers  weeping  on  the  shore  ;  — 

Now  the  sweet  vale  shall  guard  its  precious  trust, 

While  mourning  hearts  weep  o'er  thy  silent  dust. 

Sleep  sweetly,  gentle  child !  love's  tears  are  shed 
Upon  the  garlands  of  fair  Northern  flowers 

That  fond  hearts  strew  above  thy  lowly  bed, 

Through  all  our  summer's  glad  and  pleasant  hours  : 

For  thy  sake,  and  for  hers  who  sleeps  beneath  the  wave, 

Kind  hands  bring  flowers  to  fade  upon  thy  grave. 

Sleep  sweetly,  gentle  child !  the  warm  wind  sighs 
Amid  the  dark  pines  through  this  quiet  dell, 

And  waves  the  light  flower-shade  that  lies 

Upon  the  white-leaved  lily's  sculptured  bell ;  — 

The  "  Valley's  "  flowers  are  fair,  the  turf  is  green  ;  — 

Sleep  sweetly  here,  wept-for  Eugene ! 

Sleep  sweetly,  gentle  child!  this  peaceful  rest 
Hath  early  given  thee  to  a  home  above, 

Safe  from  all  sin  and  tears,  for  ever  blest 
To  sing  sweet  praises  of  redeeming  love,  — 

The  love  that  took  thee  to  that  world  of  bliss 

Ere  thou  hadst  learned  the  sighs  and  griefs  of  this. 

JULIET. 

Laurel  Brook,  N.  H.,  September,  1851. 


G.    P.   R.   JAMES.  463 


ON  THE  DEATH   OF  MARGARET  FULLER. 

BY   G.   P.   R.   JAMES. 

HIGH  hopes  and  bright  thine  early  path  bedecked, 
And  aspirations  beautiful  though  wild,  — 

A  heart  too  strong,  a  powerful  will  unchecked, 
A  dream  that  earth-things  could  be  undefiled. 

But  soon,  around  thee,  grew  a  golden  chain, 
That  bound  the  woman  to  more  human  things, 

And  taught  with  joy  —  and,  it  may  be,  with  pain  — 
That  there  are  limits  e'en  to  Spirit's  wings. 

Husband  and  child,  —  the  loving  and  beloved,  — 
Won,  from  the  vast  of  thought,  a  mortal  part, 

The  impassioned  wife  and  mother,  yielding,  proved 
Mind  has  itself  a  master  —  in  the  heart. 

In  distant  lands  enhaloed  by  old  fame 

Thou  found'st  the  only  chain  thy  spirit  knew, 

But  captive  ledst  thy  captors,  from  the  shame 
Of  ancient  freedom,  to  the  pride  of  new. 

And  loved  hearts  clung  around  thee  on  the  deck, 
Welling  with  sunny  hopes  'neath  sunny  skies : 

The  wide  horizon  round  thee  had  no  speck,  — 
E'en  Doubt  herself  could  see  no  cloud  arise. 

Thy  loved  ones  clung  around  thee,  when  the  sail 
O'er  wide  Atlantic  billows  onward  bore 

Thy  freight  of  joys,  and  the  expanding  gale 
Pressed  the  glad  bark  toward  thy  native  shore. 


464  MEMORIALS. 

The  loved  ones  clung  around  thee  still,  when  all 
Was  darkness,  tempest,  terror,  and  dismay,  — 

More  closely  clung  around  thee,  when  the  pall 
Of  Fate  was  falling  o'er  the  mortal  clay. 

With  them  to  live,  —  with  them,  with  them  to  die, 
Sublime  of  human  love  intense  and  fine  !  — 

Was  thy  last  prayer  unto  the  Deity ; 

And  it  was  granted  thee  by  Love  Divine. 

In  the  same  billow,  —  in  the  same  dark  grave, — 
Mother,  and  child,  and  husband,  find  their  rest. 

The  dream  is  ended  ;  and  the  solemn  wave 
Gives  back  the  gifted  to  her  country's  breast. 


ON  THE  DEATH   OF  M.  OSSOLI  AND  HIS  WIFE, 
MARGARET   FULLER. 

BY   WALTER    SAVAGE    LANDOR. 

OVER  his  millions  Death  has  lawful  power, 

But  over  thee,  brave  Ossoli !  none,  none  ! 

After  a  long  struggle,  in  a  fight 

Worthy  of  Italy  to  youth  restored, 

Thou,  far  from  home,  art  sunk  beneath  the  surge 

Of  the  Atlantic ;  on  its  shore  ;  in  reach 

Of  help  ;  in  trust  of  refuge  ;  sunk  with  all 

Precious  on  earth  to  thee,  —  a  child,  a  wife! 

Proud  as  thou  wert  of  her,  America 

Is  prouder,  showing  to  her  sons  how  high 

Swells  woman's  courage  in  a  virtuous  breast. 


MONUMENT.  465 

She  would  not  leave  behind  her  those  she  loved : 
Such  solitary  safety  might  become 
Others,  —  not  her ;  not  her  who  stood  beside 
The  pallet  of  the  wounded,  when  the  worst 
Of  France  and  Perfidy  assailed  the  walls 
Of  unsuspicious  Rome.     Rest,  glorious  soul, 
Renowned  for  strength  of  genius,  Margaret ! 
Rest  with  the  twain  too  dear !     My  words  are  few, 
And  shortly  none  will  hear  my  failing  voice, 
But  the  same  language  with  more  full  appeal 
Shall  hail  thee.     Many  are  the  sons  of  song 
Whom  thou  hast  heard  upon  thy  native  plains, 
Worthy  to  sing  of  thee  ;  the  hour  is  come  ; 
Take  we  our  seats  and  let  the  dirge  begin. 


MONUMENT  TO  THE   OSSOLI  FAMILY. 

[From  the  New  York  Tribune.] 

THE  family  of  Margaret  Fuller  Ossoli  have  just  erected  to 
her  memory,  and  that  of  her  husband  and  child,  a  marble  mon 
ument  in  Mount  Auburn  cemetery,  in  Massachusetts.  It  is  lo 
cated  on  Pyrola  Path,  in  a  beautiful  part  of  the  grounds,  and  has 
near  it  some  noble  oaks,  while  the  hand  of  affection  has  planted 
many  a  flower.  The  body  of  Margaret  Fuller  rests  in  the  ocean, 
but  her  memory  abides  in  many  hearts.  She  needs  no  monu 
mental  stone,  but  human  affection  loves  thus  to  do  honor  to  the 
departed. 

The  following  is  the  inscription  on  the  monument :  — 


4G6  MEMORIALS. 

Erected 
In  Memory  of 

MARGARET  FULLER  OSSOLI, 
Born  in  Cambridge,  Mass.,  May  23,  1810. 

By  birth,  a  Citizen  of  New  England;  by  adoption,  a  Citizen  of  Home;  by  genii 
belonging  to  the  World.    In  youth,  an  insatiate  Student,  seeking  the 
highest  culture ;  in  riper  years,  Teacher,  Writer,  Critic  of  Liter 
ature  and  Art ;  in  maturer  age,  Companion  and  Helper 
of  many  earnest  Reformers  hi  America 
and  Europe. 

And 

In  Memory  of  her  Husband, 
GIOVANNI  ANGELO,  MARQUIS  OSSOLI. 
He  gave  up  rank,  station,  and  home  for  the  Eoman  Republic, 
and  for  his  Wife  and  Child.        • 

And 

In  Memory  of  that  Child, 
ANGELO    EUGENE    PHILIP    OSSOLI, 

Born  in  Rieti,  Italy,  Sept.  5,  1848, 

Whose  dust  reposes  at  the  foot  of  this  stone. 

They  passed  from  life  together  by  shipwreck, 

July  19,  1850. 

United  in  life  by  mutual  love,  labors,  and  trials,  the  merciful  Father 

took  them  together,  and 
In  death  they  were  not  divided. 


THE    END. 


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